


Beyond the Ninth

by Lorshar



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ghouls, My First Fanfic, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 76,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorshar/pseuds/Lorshar
Summary: There is a special place in hell for men like Ahzrukhal, which led Charon to figure there would be an equally special place for himself. When a girl walks in and breaks him from his frozen state, it makes Charon realize this may not be the end for him. It leaves him to wonder: what lies beyond the Ninth?





	1. Business as Usual

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanficion. Various graphic acts and smut as the story continues forward. Primarily focusing on the relationship between my version of the Lone Wanderer and Charon.  
> Characters, quests, and items from Fallout 3 will be referenced and used throughout but are not the main event. Abundance of ghoul anatomy/physiology and slice of life situations. Some overarching plot. Plans to be a long term fic. 
> 
> \-----

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal day of contemplation and commands. Starting pre-purchase of Charon's contract.

Charon stood in the corner of the Ninth Circle. Stood there like he had for the past few years: unmoving, uncaring, and as lifeless as any other piece of furniture in the now empty, dilapidating bar. He had seemingly become a permanent fixture to many of the residents, less of a person and more of an unused machine collecting dust in the corner, tucked out of the way but always in sight.

 In fact, the only thing that wasn't dirtied in a layer of grime from disuse was the only other machine in the room. The register that Ahzrukhal so lovingly ran greasy fingers over as he counted the caps and old world paper inside for the third time today. 

"A good day today Charon. Yes, very good," his employer hummed as he finished depositing the excess caps into the safe behind the bar. Charon made no move to acknowledge the passing comment, drawing Ahzrukhal's gaze as he continued, "It's been awhile since we've had a good night, yes?"

Charon shrugged. He did not feel like giving Ahzrukhal the pleasure of a proper response; besides, every night was the same to him regardless of how many caps came in.

Ahzrukhal did not appear to be too disgruntled at the silence; instead, he took a seat at the counter tapping his fingers dully. "Hmmm...perhaps Greta's finally running out of charm? Or supplies? Heh, finally get some business back in here...maybe if we got our hands on some ultra jet...-"

Charon stopped listening to Ahzrukhal's prattling over his piss poor excuse of a bar. He was right about one thing: the bar hadn't been making nearly as much profit ever since Greta started serving shelf liquor. Ahzrukhal always made it sound like it was only a temporary slump, making Charon want to snort in both humor and disgust. He was well aware this "temporary slump" had lasted years.

Charon regarded Ahzrukhal, who was now lost in his own train of thought, "--maybe a new employee would lighten things up? A ghoulette server? Maybe offer... additional services?"

How long had it been, Charon wondered. Too long, he decided with a sigh.

Ahzrukhal had always been a bastard but at least in the beginning things weren't so stagnant. Charon didn't know why or when Ahzrukhal became such a complacent sleaze. He continued ignoring the ramblings of his employer and looked once again around at the bar. Everything was old and worn, including the man who owned them.

Once, years ago, Ahzrukhal had been hot blooded and viciously ambitious. He often made him do things he would rather forget about, but he could almost muster up a small shred of respect for the sharp bite of wit and cunning he was capable of. Almost.

Now Charon looked down at the man before him. A greasy ghoul going round in the middle, his posh clothes buckled at the buttons that pulled across the evidence of his soft years of living. After all his years of complaining about his dwindling business he had yet to move one of his sausage fingers up to do anything about it. He sat looking like a fat cat: complacent and content.

It disgusted Charon.

\-----

The next day started off the same as every other day for the past fifteen years. Or maybe it was twenty, Charon lost track ages ago.  Surely it couldn't be more, could it?

He grunted, popping his back and prepared to stand guard against any drunkards or junkies that got a little too carried away.

He killed a death claw once. Of course not in the bar, it was long before Ahzrukhal, but still he liked to think about it every now and then. The details were becoming fuzzy with age but it helped pass the time taking his mind off the fact that he went from a fierce body guard to a bouncer. With the state of the emaciated ghouls coming in, bouncer was even a strong word for what he really was, a glorified baby sitter. Looking up Charon saw the biggest baby out of the lot. Ahzrukhal gave him a toothy grin as he wiped out the dirty bar glasses.

If Charon could, he would sneer, but he didn't feel like getting the verbal beratement for showing his disdain. He had assumed over the first few years his hate would ebb away into something more tolerable, but time had never been kind to Charon doing little to breed any familiarity between him and Ahzrukhal.

The door next to Charon opened and in came a few of the Ninth Circle's regulars. Including Patchwork, the one ghoul Charon was almost excited to see. Not because he liked him, but because he often got to kick his ass out the door, along with whatever else fell off him.

Patchwork seemed more off than usual upon entering into the Ninth Circle, and by off he meant drunk. Carol's Place didn't serve booze this early and Tulip refused to sell anything to Patchwork as he was  known to be in debt to nearly everybody. Why Ahzrukhal even still served him on occasion was beyond Charon.

The drunken ghoul stumbled over to the counter, knocking over a chair on his way, "Oh, *berp* P-pardon me, ma'am," he mumbled apologetically at the toppled chair.

Charon leaned off of the wall, staring at Patchwork and over to Ahzrukhal, an unspoken question lingering in the air. Ahzrukhal motioned for Charon to hold back and eyed Patchwork curiously. Charon relaxed slightly but kept his attention fixed to the scene before him.

"A fine morning we are having ourselves today, is it not? Patchwork?" he spoke loudly at the drunkard who still fumbled with the upturned chair.

"Uhhh...yes. Yes, a uhh fine, fine...day," he slurred finally righting the chair and sitting with a grunt, "Hey umm...gimmie, gimmie some of the good stuff." Patchwork hiccupped.

Ahzrukhal's eyes narrowed at him.

"P-please, Ahz...Ahzrukhal," he added quietly.

Ahzrukhal continued to clean his glass, "You know you still owe me for last time Patchwork. You-"

Patchwork cut him off hurriedly, "Yeah yeah, but I got *berp* caps now. See?"

Much to Ahzrukhals surprise he did in fact have caps. More than a handfuls worth to boot.

"Drunk already and with caps in hand?" Ahzrukhal tisked, "my, my, Patchwork, how lucky you are today. And how, might I ask, did you acquire these caps...and the booze?"

Patchwork smiled ear to ear, or would have if his ears didn't fall off long ago. "A lady," he belched fumbling with the caps in his hand.

Ahzrukhal's brow furrowed, "Greta?" Patchwork stupidly shook his head.

"No."

"Carol?"

"Nope."

"Ah. Tulip?"

"Nuh-uh"

Ahzrukhal slammed the glass down making a few of the other patrons jump. "Damn it Patchwork! Don't play games!"

Patchwork dropped a few of the loose caps from his trembling hands. Charon saw some spittle fly from his employers snarling lips. He hadn't seen Ahzrukhal this alive in ages. 

Patchwork was much less amused than Charon at Ahzrukhal's outburst judging by how his mouth now only hung open in a drunken stupor. Ahzrukhal leaned in closer, beckoning Charon over.

"Who gave you the booze and caps?" he asked Patchwork coldly, eyes narrowed into slits as Charon came up to the side of the dumbstruck ghoul.

Patchwork looked down to the ground, avoiding Ahzrukhal's icy gaze. Charon moved his foot to the spot he now stared at, letting his boot cover one of the caps the drunk ghoul had dropped earlier.

His eyes sobered up quickly as he collected himself.

"A lady, a smoothskin lady! She gave me the booze, she...she did." He nodded to himself as he continued, "and the caps! The caps too. She gimmie those too. She did, honest. I didn't steal or nothin." Patchwork babbled, "Come on Ahzrukhal. I just want some of the good stuff, please?"

Ahzrukhal huffed, "A smoothskin woman? You're pulling my leg Patchwork," he smiled, his ugly toothy yellow smile.

Charon cringed at his employers sudden mood swing. "What kind of smoothskin woman would give you the time of day, let alone pay for your drinks!" He chuckled scratching at his patchy stubble on what was left of his rotting chin.

"I'm telling you the truth. A smoothskin lady... I... I think," Patchwork blinked dumbly as if he wasn't even sure of what he was saying.

"It is true!" a voice from another table rang out. One of the regular ghouls had spoken up, "A smoothskin came in real late last night. I saw her myself!"

Another slapped his shoulder "Oh you did not! She went straight to Carol's!"

Soon the few ghouls in the bar were all buzzing about the smoothskin. Adding what they heard and shaking heads, the only thing they all agreed on is that she definitely was here.

"But why? Why give you anything?" he looked at Patchwork who was busy eyeing the liquor cabinet.

Charon bumped Patchwork to break him out of his daze, "Oh, ummm... I don't... I dunno." the drunkard shrugged seemingly uninterested in anything but the empty glass on the counter.

Ahzrukhal huffed again, pouring some whiskey into the glass. Patchworks eyes lit up. Charon could tell he was hoping the line of questioning was over and he could just have his drink.

"A smoothskin huh?" Ahzrukhal said slowly, swirling the contents of the glass around in his hand.

Patchwork's fingers itched with anticipation, "Yeah, yeah. I told her where she could get a drink. Ninth Circle I said. I said that. Me." His eyes became transfixed on the golden liquid, looking like he was straining to try and think of anything he could say to keep Ahzrukhal from teasing him like so.

"What else did you tell her?"

"...Wha? Nothin'..."

Ahzrukhal put the rim of the glass to his mouth tipping it ever so slightly.

"Wait! No, no don't! Don't do that Ahzrukhal. She uhhh...she...asked about trading."

The glass remained still.

 "Said she was looking for help. Needs someone...is looking for....looking for...something." He trailed off, eyes now pleading for Ahzrukhal to take pity on him.

Ahzrukhal downed the drink in one go earning a pained whimper from Patchwork.

"Show Patchwork the door please, Charon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will probably see me use the phrase "old world paper" instead of Pre-War money fairly often. For reference, a single note of any denomination will be approximately the equivalent of 10 caps.  
> I will bring up some in game items I enjoy. Chapter 9 is going to include my all time favorite item...I'm excited. Any guesses to what it is? Do any of you have a favorite item? (weapon, chem, outfit etc..)


	2. Smooth Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Our Lone Wanderer steps in.

After disposing of Patchwork, Charon once again returned to his corner.

Ahzrukhal seemed disgruntled, his normal grubby smirk replaced with a foreboding scowl. Charon was glad for it.

As if sensing the fraction of pleasure caused by this latest disruption of routine, Ahzrukhal had to ruin it by beckoning Charon over to the counter.

"A smoothskin," Ahzrukhal started, "don't get many of those. Fewer women. Fewer still that would even so much as look at Patchwork, let alone gift him anything...I don't like people giving free handouts to my customers." he grumbled looking irate. "What do you make of it Charon?"

Charon shrugged in response. "I asked you a question Charon," Ahzrukhal gritted through his teeth, annoyance palpable.

"I do not make anything of it," Charon stated flatly. He thought a moment adding more assuredly, "It is nothing."

"Nothing?" Ahzrukhal repeated, "...it is nothing?"

Charon nodded. Wondering when paranoia had seeped into the growing list of Ahzrukhal's annoying tendencies.

Ahzrukhal paused a moment before nodding back. "It is nothing." No longer a question.

He waved Charon back into place, slipping back into his comfortable role as barkeep.

Charon wondered idly if this is the markings of a ghoul turning feral. Ahzrukhal's body and mind seemed to deteriorate more each day, worrying Charon. Was it only a matter of time before he too would find himself fat and content with the familiar scraps of the ghouls who squatted here?

The thought shakes him to his core.

So much so, that he didn't notice the door to the Ninth Circle beginning to open slowly.

The rusted hinges cried out, tearing at what remained of Charon's nerves. He turned his head angrily at whoever was creeping their way into the dank bar, half expecting it to be Patchwork trying to clumsily weasel back in.

To Charon's surprise and displeasure, in stepped the devil herself.

It was a smoothskin alright. A very smooth smoothskin at that. The harsh arid wasteland normally made travelers worn and haggard, but she looked remarkably...fresh is the only word he could use to describe it. She wore ill fitting armor that wasn't fastened properly. How she found her way to Underworld was a mystery and a miracle, albeit the most unlucky sort of miracle he could think of.

She only took a step inside the Ninth Circle, seeming unsure as the door remained partially open behind her. He remained unmoving as she took a few more steps inside. Charon refused to look at Ahzrukhal but he was sure he was staring holes into the woman at the doorway. Instead, Charon decided to look down at the floor, hoping this woman had enough sense to leave this shit hole. She must have some sense of self preservation for lasting this long in the mall.

A small noise next to him caused his muscles to tense, he could feel his chest tighten, surely this girl had enough sense not to talk to him?

"Excuse me..."

Clearly not. He sighed inwardly.

The girl began again, "Excuse me, but are you -" he cut her off.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," he said without looking directly at her.

"But I-"

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal," he ground each word out trying his best to drive a wedge into any further conversation she had planned. Charon made a small gesture with his head in the direction of the bar hoping she would take the hint and leave him alone.

Charon noticed she still didn't budge from where she stood and looked up at her, regretting it instantly.

He saw her eyes wide and questioning, features soft, too soft for anyone from the wasteland. Telling her to talk to Ahzrukhal was a mistake. What he should have said was, "Get out of here," or, "Leave why you can," something to scare her away from this place, from that man. But of course, he just stared back feeling uneasy as she met his stare, holding him there in her sights.

In her eyes he could almost make out his own grizzled reflection. He looked just like everything else in here, useless and rotting. He hated it. He hated her.

The few seconds their eyes were locked felt more like hours to Charon. Giving in first, he tore his gaze away from her and looked over to Ahzrukhal. Another mistake.

Ahzrukhal was indeed staring a hole into the armored woman at Charon's side. His expression changing from surprise to something darkly smug. Charon decided it would do better to not dwell on what kinds of unsavory things Ahzrukhal was thinking. The less he knew about the inner machinations of Ahzrukhal's mind the better.

The girl finally seemed to notice the bar tender eyeing her from across the way. She shifted a few more times on her feet, wiping sweating palms on her trousers front, before finally making a move to the counter where the ghoul waited patiently.

From his corner, Charon waited to see what would happen feeling curious and sickened at the sight of Ahzrukhal's eyes lingering on the swaying frame of the wastelander. For her sake, he hoped she was a clever girl.

\-----

Ahzrukhal regarded the girl curiously, looking her up and down. Her exact shape was obscured by the weighty bulk of the leathers she wore, but even still, the obvious lilted walk of hers betrayed her womanhood. It had been some time since he had seen a smoothskin in his bar, but never had he had the pleasure of entertaining the company of such a fine as specimen as her.

She was at the counter now, on full display for his perusal of her person. The dim lighting off the bar walls contoured her face, shadows ghosting the valleys of her cheek bones making her look a tad gaunt. Her dark hair was drawn into a frazzled tail collecting at the nape of her neck, strands escaping to form a gauzy halo around her head. Ahzrukhal's eyes fell to her mouth, her tongue darting out to briefly wet chapped lips. He hummed, chest rumbling in quiet approval.

"Ah. Well lookee here. We have a smoothskin I ain't never seen before. Come sit down, make yourself...comfortable," he purred trying his best to sound as gallant as possible, "I am Ahzrukhal and this," he gestured to the room at large, "is the Ninth Circle. Folks got problems and I got liquor to sell them," he chuckled, "well that and a few other pick me ups. You just let me know what your pleasure would be and I'll happily oblige. You'll find that I am rather...well stocked." He mused at her as she sat herself in at the counter.

She hadn't yet been scared off. Good, Ahzrukhal thinks, very good. He couldn't help but feel a tad disappointed, he does get a small thrill seeing the fear in the eyes of a new smoothskin, but it was early and he would strive to get a rise out of her yet.

"I'm Joanna, it's a pleasure," she said extending her hand out to him. Ahzrukhal stared dumbstruck at the outstretched hand for a moment before the corners of his mouth curled up back into the lecherous smirk of his.

"A smoothskin who isn't screaming? And so polite," his voice lowered as his hand found the exposed flesh of her own. It's been ages, decades even, since he touched skin this smooth. The contrast between his thick rotting flesh and her supple hand would be comical if it were not so sad of a reality. But Azhrukhal couldn't deny that the feeling of her warm pulse in his grotesque hands wasn't more than a bit arousing to himself, although he doubt the feeling was mutual. Not that it had ever mattered before.

His smile grew as he felt himself becoming increasingly impressed with her boldness and excited by the greenness of her naiveté. Very good.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Joanna..." He extended her name in his grating voice, savoring the sound of it unfurling off his tongue. Her eyes remained steeled but her hand ran cold and clammy in his grasp. Ahzrukhal felt a spark deep within him. It felt like power.

"The man," Joanna began gesturing behind her, "in the corner, is he--?"

"Who? Charon?" Ahzrukhal interrupted casting a questioning look towards the tall ghoul in the corner. He had seen her walk up to him upon entering the Ninth Circle but couldn't fathom the reasoning for it. She was such a slight looking thing and he was a large hardened ghoul.

She nodded, "Charon. Yes. I was looking for him," she ran her hands on the surface of the counter top, "I was told he is yours?"

Ahzrukhal was unsure where this line of questioning was headed, but he nodded anyway, "In a sense, yes. Yes, Charon is mine." Of course it was just his luck that the first pretty young smoothskin to come his way would ask him about Charon, he thought wryly.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, finding his mouth starting to become uncomfortably dry before continuing, "Charon is my...well I guess you could call him a loyal employee."

"So he works here? At the bar?" Joanna asked casting a brief glance over to Charon's corner.

"It is a bit more complex than that. He protects me and the Ninth Circle," he shrugged, "Charon is rather handy to have around. A ghoul with his unique...talents, makes people rethink messing with Underworld...or me." His eyes hardened with his firm words.

Her lips parted slightly, "Talents?"

"Yes," he nodded scratching idly at his chest, "You see, Charon is quite the expert combatant. Some take his brevity for stupidity. But I warn you, underestimating him is very unwise. I hold his contract, which means he will do what I ask when I ask, without question. Even the smallest task is done with a crafted precision. Which again makes him a most valuable asset to myself."

Joanna continued to run her palms along the counter, leaving cloudy perspiration trails in their wake. She looked up at him, "So he's your slave?"

At that Ahzrukhal's jaw tightened, "No, he is not. Ma'am you insult me." His rising voice drew a few eyes from onlookers in the bar, "I do not believe in slavery. It is an abomination." Ahzrukhal's voice resonated in his chest as his breathing became more labored in his anger, "I am a firm believer in personal choice. Chains are earned, never forced. Charon made some choices that landed him in my employ. The matters of our contract are between him and I-," he looked back at her, smile now gone, "no one else."

If she was nervous she was very good at hiding it. The only thing that may have gave her away was a small audible gulp before deciding upon her next words, "I didn't mean to offend. Or imply anything," she reached back to his hand on the counter. Ahzrukhal saw her struggling to form words in the awkwardness of the moment.

Just as easily as it had gone, Ahzrukhal's lust filled smile came back to his ruined face. He clapped his other hand on top of her own, sandwiching it between his and giving a small possessive squeeze. Although he saw her cringe slightly away, she allowed him to continue his small ministrations as they continued talking. He had never met a smoothskin who would so willingly accept his touches in such a familiar way. Ahzrukhal saw a small frown forming on the young woman's face.

"No need to fret my dear," he chuckled as he thumbed a stray hair behind the shell of her ear, "I only call upon Charon's talents when someone gets on my wrong side. I assure you that during your stay he will be as gentle as a teddy bear." His lowered voice made his chest rumble, tattered vocal cords turning what should have been soothing to something slightly more menacing.

Although there was no need to threaten the girl, Ahzrukhal thought, she still needed to know who was in charge around here. As much as he found her casual comfort in the situation amusing, it also planted a seed of suspicion in him. No one could be this accommodating without wanting something.

He pulled back from her and began to straighten the soiled cuffs of his suit. "You said you were looking for Charon, is that right?"

"I came here to ask if Charon's services were...for sale?" she sounded hopeful. It made Ahzrukhal chuckle darkly.

"I suppose everything is for sale," he stole a quick glance down at her seated form, "but Charon is a valuable asset of mine and doesn't come cheap. No offense miss, but I doubt you would have the caps to buy his contract from me."

Her armor wasn't the best and the sniper rifle attached to her back looked like it was about to fall apart after the next shot. Dirt and some crusting of what Ahzrukhal presumed was blood covered her clothing in patches. Although her complexion was the clearest he had ever seen, she had dark bags under her eyes and cracking lips. A few restless nights without sleep or water he presumed. She seemed better geared, judging by an overstuffed pack she carried, than other wanderers and raiders, but not by much.

Joanna nodded respectfully, moving to fiddle with some odd machine strapped to her arm. "I figured. I was thinking more of, I guess, renting him? Just for a few hours. A day tops. To help me get something I need from the Museum of Technology nearby." She showed the tiny screen on her arm to Ahzrukhal, showing a picture of what was labeled as the Virgo II Lunar Lander.

Ahzrukhal didn't pretend to know what he was looking at and shrugged. "I don't see why I couldn't let Charon out for a run, but I would still need you to make it worth my time." He leaned forward into her space across the counter, close enough that he was sure she could feel his ragged breath wash over her as he softly spoke, "what kind of offer do you have for me?"

\-----

Charon watched Ahzrukhal talk to the smoothskin girl. From the corner he struggled to make out any of the conversation, but from the few dirty looks Ahzrukhal shot his way, he assumed it was at least in part about him. This wasn't good.

Charon never liked to draw Ahzrukhal's attention if he could help it. The fact that this smoothskin seemed to be dragging him into something made him dislike her all the more.

During the length of the ongoing conversation, his employers face managed to display a gamut of emotions. Judging by how he kept finding new ways to exchange brief touches or pet her hands, Charon figured he wouldn't have to jump to his rescue any time soon. He tried his best to relax back into his corner but he still felt an uneasiness worming its way into his gut. This was nothing, he tried to remind himself. She was nothing.

Still, Charon couldn't help but wonder what would possess this girl to come into the Ninth Circle, or Underworld for that matter. She must be desperate. He watched as she continued to allow Ahzrukhal to touch her, even touching him back on occasion. A whole new level of desperate, he grimaced.

She had produced some Pre-War money from her back pockets, handing it to a very pleased looking Ahzrukhal. What happened next was unexpected and stomach churning, and he figured it would haunt him for life.

Ahzrukhal's arrogant Cheshire grin spread wide as he raised the young smoothskin's hand to his ruined lips placing a chaste kiss to her pearly white knuckles.

He felt like he was watching him wipe his ass on her. With the amount of shit that fell from those lips, he may as well have been. Charon felt the uneasiness in his stomach turn to nausea at the sight of Ahzrukhal soiling the girls hand. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that Ahzrukhal did that, or that she let him do it to her. Either way, the whole thing felt dirty.

He was not looking forward to whatever was coming of this.

With that, the smoothskin left the bar, giving Charon a curt nod as she went. He hadn't seen Ahzrukhal pour her a drink or give her any food. He glanced back to the counter where his employer stood looking at him with an unsettling amount of satisfaction plastered across the pitted flesh of his face. Charon was left to wonder what exactly she had paid for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this stories purposes GNR's signal is completely down everywhere, including Underworld. Charon's contract will be discussed more as we progress. I ended up with the name Joanna after a lot of back and forth. 
> 
> This chapter probably contains the most in game dialogue (some paraphrasing here and there). I didn't want to cut the lines about Ahzrukhal's explanation on Charon.


	3. A Night to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Ahzrukhal have a very one sided chat.  
> Also, I love chems.

Closing time came nowhere near soon enough for Charon. The entire day he was left in his normal corner of the bar trying to focus on anything but the smoothskin from earlier. This proved to be a difficult feat as she was the only thing any of the ghouls in the bar seemed to want to talk about.

He had learned this "Joanna" girl was some sort of vault dweller. He had overheard one of the regulars saying that a vault explained why she looked whiter than the cream in a fancy lad and in nearly as mint of condition as one. Which made sense, but Charon could have done without the ghoul adding under his breath, much to the amusement of Ahzrukhal, whether her center would taste as sweet.

Charon sighed. It was bad enough ferals ate people. You think the fool ghoul would try to avoid comparing smoothskins to food. The jest was almost as distasteful as Winthrop's old smoothskin jokes.

The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting back his impulse to smirk. Distasteful. Charon let his head hit the back wall with a dull thud, exhaling hard. He wasn't sure what was worse, him rotting into a feral or bored into becoming senile.

Other rumors flew around about her but he tried to pay them no mind. Gossip only furthered the decay of this place, he wouldn't add to it. It was bad enough the ghouls in Underworld were falling apart at the seams. Ahzrukhal's presence and the addition of the Ninth Circle had only manage to pull harder at the loose threads that made up the moral fiber of the community.

Ahzrukhal's chem business was the worst kept secret in Underworld. Many of the more permanent residents were now regulars in the Ninth Circle, all addicted to the overpriced narcotics. Charon couldn't blame them though. What else were ghouls going to spend caps on anyway? It's not like many travelled outside the safety of the museum or wanted to pretend appearances mattered down here. Who was he to judge them if getting high off their asses made this purgatory a little more like heaven? If he had the opportunity, Charon wasn't sure he wouldn't be doing exactly the same.

As he continued thinking about his fantasy of choice, the biggest spender out of the regulars was finishing up tonight's binger.

Snowflake was still at the bar chatting with Ahzrukhal between drags off his jet inhaler. As he emptied his fourth canister of the foul smelling chem, he dug out his tab from the loosely tied bottoms of his silken pajama pants. On his way out he clapped Charon on the shoulder smiling a soundless goodnight. Behind the darkened lenses of Snowflakes sunglasses Charon could see his eyes hazed over, as white as his namesake.

Charon grunted, giving a nod of acknowledgment to the high ghoul gripping his shoulder. With a last all too friendly jostle and wink, Snowflake left the Ninth Circle, the clapping of his slippers slowly receding into the distance. Charon was now alone in the quiet bar with only the stink of jet left lingering behind, and the fouler stink of Ahzrukhal.

\-----

Ahzrukhal remained seated at the counter, back turned to Charon. Empty jet inhalers littered the ground at his feet. Charon didn't bother counting how many of them were tossed to the floor by his employer this evening. Even without seeing his face, Charon knew he was probably just as high as Snowflake.

Charon had not been dismissed from his post by Ahzrukhal, so he continued to wait for an order. A few minutes passed, but no order came. Ahzrukhal didn't move at all. Charon hoped he had died; died sitting in that dirty barstool, freeing him, if only temporarily from his contractual obligations.

Although he didn't move, Charon could still hear painful raspy breaths coming from his employer. More than likely he had fallen asleep. It wouldn't be the first time Charon would be left standing all night at attention. Ahzrukhal was a selfish bastard like that.

Ahzrukhal's breathing stopped a moment, interrupted by a strangled noise tearing from the old ghouls throat. It sounded like something caught between a sob and a snort to Charon. The seated ghoul's shoulders shook. Surely his employer wasn't crying, was he?

Suddenly, Ahzrukhal's head shot back and a deep bellowing laugh followed. Charon was right, his employer was crying, with laughter. Drunk, high, and in far too good a mood. This was a recipe for disaster if Charon ever saw one.

He would have preferred Ahzrukhal falling asleep.

As the laughter died down in volume, Ahzrukhal rose to his feet, wobbling some. Continuing his giddy chuckle, he reached for some vodka. Breaking the seal on a new bottle, he looked over at Charon still standing in the corner.

"Charon," he called to him, "Charon my loyal employee. Come here. Sit down. Have a drink." Ahzrukhal was all smiles as he gestured to the stool across from him. Charon obeyed his command, making his way as slowly as possible over to the vacant chair.

A tall empty glass sat in front of Charon on the counter, obviously dirty from previous use. Of course he wouldn't give him a clean cup.

As his employer began pouring the vodka he laughed, "A tall fucker like you," the clear liquid reached the brim of the glass, "needs a tall shot..." alcohol spilled its way onto the counter and down onto the front of Charon's leathers.

Ahzrukhal pushed the overflowing drink into Charon's hands. "Drink." A simple command.

Charon lifted the glass up carefully, trying not to spill anymore down his front. He took a cautionary sip before removing his lips, the vodka irritating the sensitive tissue near his exposed nasal cavity. He made an exaggerated gesture to show he had swallowed a mouthful of the tasteless liquor, hoping the show would satisfy Ahzrukhal enough. It did not.

 "All of it Charon," his employer commanded with more force this time.

Shit. Charon wrinkled what was left of his nose, tipping the full glass back. He chugged as fast as he could, trying his best to ignore the fire in his stomach or the wet dribbling he felt down the sides of his cheeks, causing his thinner patches of skin to burn.

Ahzrukhal clapped him hard on the back causing Charon to choke slightly on the last dregs of the drink.

"Swallow Charon," another hard clap to his back, "I'm not running a charity here. Booze is money. Don't waste it."

That bastard would think he's being charitable. Charon wanted to punch him but settled for setting the now empty glass back on the counter with a loud thump. Hoping tonight's charity would end, Charon made a silent plea in his head, wishing his employer wouldn't fill the glass again.  His hopes died quickly as Ahzrukhal once again poured the vodka to the brim with a sadistic chortle.

"A fine night again Charon," he wheezed catching his breath from the harsh laughter, "A damn fine night." He bumped into Charon's shoulder, "Drink."

Charon gingerly lifted the glass for another cautionary sip, letting the rim rest at his mouth. He hoped if he mocked nursing the beverage he wouldn't be forced into downing the rest as quickly as the first. His method seemed to work as Ahzrukhal ignored him to pour out his own drink.

"What did you think about her?" his employer inquired as he took a sip of his own chosen poison.

"Who?" he asked trying to feign ignorance.

"You know very well who!" the paunchy ghoul snapped. "The fuckin' piece of smooth ass that came in here, that's who." He slapped at Charon's hand, "Drink."

Again, Charon began taking small mouthfuls of liquor to please Ahzrukhal. Perhaps if he preoccupied him with rambling on about the smoothskin he would let him sit in relative peace before growing bored. At least if the sleazy ghoul kept talking he couldn't give orders.

"She looked in poor condition. She will not last long on her own," Charon thought back to her half buckled armor and small frame. He took no pleasure in calling attention to her imminent demise but it was the truth.

Ahzrukhal scoffed, "Of course leave it to you to say the least interesting things," he leaned in, putrid breath finding its way to Charon's nose, "I'm talking about that fuckin' delicious looking smooth skin of hers Charon. You can't seriously tell me you didn't take one look at that and not have the urge to burry your face in it."

Charon shrugged, not knowing whether he wanted to goad Ahzrukhal into talking further.

The tall ghouls quiet indecisiveness seemed to remind his employer at the lack of drinking as he slapped Charon's hand, commanding once again for him to down the entirety of the glass. His stomach twisted as he finished his second punishment. Before he could even put the glass back on the counter, Ahzrukhal was already pouring more into it, splashing vodka all over Charon's hand. The alcohol burned into the cracks of his remaining skin, he permitted himself a small hiss of pain.

"It's been a long damn time since I've had a fresh pussy in here, "Ahzrukhal slammed back another drink with a strong exhale, "Ah. Damn it's been forever," he eyed Charon who hadn't even bothered to bring the glass to his mouth this time.

"What's the problem Charon? Too weak to stomach a real man's drink? Or are you busy thinking about being buried in that slick smoothskin cunt?" he mocked him as he starting drinking from the bottle this time. Ahzrukhal made no effort to stop the booze from leaking out of his mouth and down his dingy cream colored suit. "You even remember what it looks like?"

Charon took his third glass and began drinking in earnest. If he was going to have to suffer through this night he may as well try and get shit faced. Maybe it would make things easier.

Ahzrukhal's face lit up, "There you go. I knew you were a sick bastard," he poked at Charon's shoulder, "You remember don't you? Yeah," he breathed hard, obviously taking pleasure in Charon's discomfort. "Yeah. You do. That last smoothskin, remember Charon? You still think about her don't you?" his employer's face cracked into a grin, "Oh, I know I do. Been a long time since though hasn't it?"

Charon finished his third full glass. His head was starting to swim but it wasn't entirely bad. He felt his stomach starting to churn, angrily making itself known. Maybe he would puke on Ahzrukhal and feel better. Charon clang to the image to try and keep himself from drowning in less amusing thoughts from his past.

Ahzrukhal pulled the vodka bottle away from his lips, filling Charon's glass once more. His other hand was brought to his chest, bringing out some jet from his breast pocket. He took a deep hit off the cherry red canister, holding in his breath before slowly letting a plume of smoke escape his nose in a long white stream. It smelled horrible and bathed Charon in a warm blanket of shit laced vapor.

"That Jenny or Crazy Kitty or whatever the fuck her name was..." Ahzrukhal paused taking another hit.

Candice. Crazy Can Candice, Charon thought to himself. That was her stupid raider name when she was pushing psycho back in the day. He took another gulp of clear liquor down, unbothered by whatever was now swimming at the top of the drink.

"She was something...nice ass. Real nice," Ahzrukhal rubbed at his stubble as he spoke, "She was a screamer. Shit, Winthrop's right about one thing. Ain't nothing a bit of duct tape can't fix," Ahzrukhal shook his head, "Don't have to worry about that with this Joanna though. She keeps her mouth tight that one. Makes a man want to find out how tight, you know? Charon?" He flashed his row of slimy stained teeth in the seated ghouls direction, holding out the jet canister to him.

Charon didn't wait for a command. He pushed the inhaler firmly between his lips and pressed down on the little button releasing a burst of rancid air into his mouth. He choked inhaling the stale fumes coughing all the while into his vodka soaked sleeve.

"Did you see the way she let me touch her? Like she was begging for it. Wonder if she's one of those kind of freaks into necrosis. I've heard of people having a fetish for our kind," he shook his head, "Guess a ghoul can't argue when pickings are so damn slim..."

Charon hardly listened as he shakily took in a second lung full of jet. He did no better at holding it in than his first time, letting go of the drag in a fit of coughs and gasping breaths. The ungraceful display went ignored by his employer as he continued his stream of consciousness.

"Nothin' like a full head of hair to grab. Not like these shitty ghoulettes," his employer spat, running his grimy hand through his own stringy follicles, "I want a real woman, Charon.  A full woman. Been a long time since I felt a nice head of hair. Soft skin, soft breasts, a nice thick fuckin' bush," Ahzrukhal stared at the empty bottle of vodka on the counter grabbing at his crotch, "Don't even got much left on my own..." Charon only grunted, not wanting to hear any more on the subject.

Ahzrukhal took the jet back looking victoriously pleased with himself. "Exciting, isn't it Charon? Maybe this time I'll let you do more than just hold her down," he snorted, "but I know you're the kind that likes to watch. That's all you do don't you? Sit back and watch. Probably getting hard just thinking about it all day from your corner," Ahzrukhal's accusing finger poked harder into Charon's shoulder between his armor, "Don't you act like I don't know you. I know what you are Charon."

With a hollow sound, the emptied chem container joined the others on the floor. 

Charon swayed on his seat, finishing his drink that he had long since lost count of, as a wave of numbness filled him. He felt like he was floating slightly, the only thing anchoring him to the ground being the heavy weightiness of his head. Although his employer was more than a head shorter than him, Ahzrukhal was making Charon feel like a lightweight in comparison. If he were sober he may have felt a twinge of embarrassment.

In this foggy state it became harder to latch onto what Ahzrukhal was saying. He kept thinking back on Joanna's face, concentrating on it hard. It was her fault this was happening. If she hadn't shown up this would have been like any other night. Now he was being dragged further down. He had made it to the Ninth Circle, he didn't want to know what was beyond.

Charon was only vaguely cognizant of Ahzrukhal's order for him to turn in for the night. He could have sworn he mumbled something about the moon and Joanna. Laying down on the bar floor, Charon felt a bulge in his pocket. His fingers traced the outline of the hardened mass, feeling the defined shape of a shotgun shell stretching at the fabric. That hadn't been there a moment ago, he thought, too tired to try and fish the new ammo out to inspect. Ahzrukhal's face blurred in and out of existence forming words that replayed silently on Charon's lips.

"Keep her safe. I like her." Over and over Ahzrukhal's voice rang in his head, each time sounding more like Charon's own. The words kept flowing, heavy and tasteless in his mouth, until they became as meaningless as the darkness that consumed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During this scene I borrowed some inspiration from a movie I particularly like, Sling Blade. The beginning monologue given by a fellow patient of the main character, Carl, reminds me of how I think interactions between Charon and Ahzrukhal would be. I find Charon and Carl similar in a lot of ways. Again, the amount of free will or "choice" on Charon's part will come up more with time, same with some other particulars from his contract because I find it interesting. As much as I am sad that Fallout 3 didn't have much about his character, I am glad I can just sort of fill out my own version in the blanks.
> 
> What kind of characters do you associate with your interpretation of Charon, if any?


	4. Wake Up Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna realizes she may not know what she is doing. What a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have the two of these characters do a small quest before she actually purchases Charon's services fully. The GNR line was the quickest little bit I felt was appropriate for Joanna's skills, or lack thereof.

Winthrop had fixed her 10mm up nicely. Holding the gun aloft in her hand, Joanna ran her fingers down the grip, tracing the abrasive surface that patterned the pistol. At first, she had only taken the damn thing to humor her friend. She popped the empty magazine from the firearm. Now there was no humor left in it at all.

"Hey, smoothie, you still with me?"

"What?" Joanna snapped out of her daze, jamming the empty magazine back and quickly holstering the gun. Her cheeks flushed realizing she had completely ignored whatever Winthrop had been going on about.

"You alright? Heat hasn't gone to your head has it?" Winthrop wiped a grease stained handkerchief on his brow, "Us ghouls put up with the heat better than you smoothies, but with the vents the way they are...-"

Joanna shook her head, "Oh, no. I'm fine, honest." She knew she was lying, her heart had been pounding in her ears since she got here. Winthrop didn't need to know that though, but she had the feeling he did anyway. "Just busy thinking about my next mission."

"Mission? Like someone assigned you to walk around in the damn ruins?" Winthrop pocketed his handkerchief, "Leave it to humans to order a girl to do their dirty work."

"More of a self appointed mission I guess. We all need a hobby, right?"

Winthrop humphed, "Another trek out in the wastes already? You sure you don't need me to fix anything else while you're here?" His eyes fell to her rifle, "Could give you a discount. Don't feel right sending you off like that."

"No, but thank you. I'll be alright," she felt touched by the ghouls offer but knew she couldn't afford anything else after making her deal with Ahzrukhal. Still, she wanted to offer Winthrop some peace of mind. "Charon's coming with me."

"Charon?!" He exclaimed dumbfounded. "You mean," his hand shot up high, roughly were the tall ghouls head would be, "Charon, Charon?"

"Well yeah...I thought it was a good idea to have some muscle at my back."

Winthrop shook his head, "How in the world did you get Ahzrukhal to agree to such a foolish thing?"

"I paid him, obviously. Plus I'm trying to get GNR's signal back up. Having the radio back would be good for his business too. Give people something to listen to other than the sound of mold growing in their ears and rattling vents." She tried to make the conversation lighter, feeling as though Winthrop was chastising her for making an embarrassing mistake. Joanna felt a flush creeping up her neck.

"Look kid," he sighed, eyes shifting around before lowering his voice, "I ain't gonna tell you what you should and shouldn't do, but you be careful around Charon. Don't know what he'll do when Ahzrukhal's not there to put the screws to him."

"You think he's dangerous?"

Winthrop shook his head, "Just don't think he's safe."

Joanna's heart dropped to her stomach. Maybe her great idea hadn't been so great after all.

\-----

A warm splash of water to the face ripped Charon back to reality. The vacant opening of his nose allowed foul water to rush into his throat, quickly choking him. He sat up coughing hard to purge the offending liquid from his airway, realizing with disgust that it was the water used to clean the bar dishes. Pieces of mildewing food stuck to his clothes and face. Charon ran a hand through his hair, slicking the red strands back while he finished spitting up the dish water. Ahzrukhal let the now empty bucket drop to the floor with a loud metallic clang.

"Get up Charon. She'll be here soon." The suited ghoul walked back to the counter, opening the register beginning the days first count.

Charon groaned, feeling like his head had been run over by a horde of brahmin. As he rose to his feet his shirt clung to what was left of his decimated flesh, making him feel uncomfortably damp. At least it wasn't the piss bucket this time.

In his discomfort from the rude awakening coupled with his hangover, Charon wasn't sure if he had heard his employer right. She'll be here soon? Did he mean the smoothskin Joanna? And what exactly for?

Ahzrukhal continued to count the register in silence, leaving Charon to pick off the crud from his moist shirt and don his previously discarded armor he had somehow manage to strip out of the night before. Even with his head pounding in his skull, he felt more rested than normal. He never was able to really sleep before, although he wasn't sure if blacking out counted. A crack of his shoulders and pop of his neck was followed by one last groan before Charon moved to his usual corner to prepare himself for another typical day in the Ninth Circle.

Ahzrukhal stopped his counting. Looking up from the still opened register, he glowered at the wet ghoul. The register drawer slammed shut, his employers eyes never leaving Charon's face.

"We need to talk Charon," Ahzrukhal's voice was as ragged and labored as always, leaving Charon unable to decipher much from his employers request.

"If conversation is what you wish, I shall provide it," Charon repeated his rehearsed line, awaiting what was sure to be a most unpleasant exchange.

 The stout ghoul made his way over to the table closest to him. Sitting down with a heavy breath, Ahzrukhal motioned for Charon to sit. The tall ghoul lowered himself into an adjacent chair, unsure of what was to come next.

"You do have all you need, correct?" Ahzrukhal began, "Don't be too reckless out there. In and out. You got that?"

Charon was lost as to what Ahzrukhal was asking of him so he shook his head, "I do not know what you are referring to."

"For fuck's sake Charon, don't you remember a thing I tell you?" his employers fist hit the table. Ahzrukhal's mouth opened as if to continue yelling at him for whatever Charon was guilty of this time, but nothing came out. Instead, the ghouls mouth snapped shut. Sitting back, he took a deep breath in, running a hand down to smooth the permanent wrinkles in his old pin striped affair.

"Last night Charon. I told you last night," he seemed to have calmed himself enough to continue, "That Joanna girl is coming to get you when we open. You are to follow her to her destination. Guard her. Makes sure she completes her tasks unharmed. And then you get your ass back here."

This was news to Charon. He must have forgotten more than he thought from last night. Not only was he uninformed but unprepared to take on this kind of duty in his current state."May I inquire for details?"

Ahzrukhal nodded, "You may."

"What task does this girl plan on accomplishing? How long am I permitted to be gone for?"

"I don't know many of the details myself, only that she plans on fixing the radio signal," he brought his hands up to rest behind his head, "said she would be a few hours or a day. Just finish what she needs to get the radio working and head back here. You still got some instinct left in that old head of yours. Use a little discretionary judgment, will you? Surely you're still capable of some function outside my immediate handling?"

Charon nodded. It was true enough. He could function without immediate intervention by his employer just fine, given that he wasn't burdened with any preexisting orders. The contract didn't render him totally incapacitated nor did it leave him unable to carry out tasks without his employers presence.

Technically, Charon could argue that he was not behooved to follow a request made by a third party, but if Ahzrukhal was letting him off leash for a short time Charon supposed being an errand boy wouldn't hurt. If he had realized the girls intent sooner he would have laid off the jet last night. He could still taste the chem filming his tongue with a sour tang.

He wasn't sure which left a worse taste in his mouth, the jet or the fact that this Joanna girl had rented him like a cheap suit. Charon hoped going along with this little newfound way to demean him wouldn't spark bigger ideas in Ahzrukhal's sick mind. Being pimped out to any Tom, Dick, or Sally that offered enough caps was not a pleasant thought. This Joanna made Charon sicker than the hangover.

\-----

Joanna paced patiently back and forth in the central room of Underworld. Still sleeping ghouls littered the floor in makeshift beds wrapped in grayish looking linens. This early in the day the building seemed slightly cooler, she felt a heavy wetness permeate the air.

The vaultie took a deep breath in, soaking up the moldy smell of sitting water. The walls of the museum cracked in places, a sheen of dewy moisture coated most of the surface, particularly near the vents.

When she had first entered the building, the stench of death rose to greet her, leaving the young girl blanching upon the foreign taste. Now she didn't seem to mind the stench. There was a lingering sweetness underlying the pungency of the initial impact. Similar to the sickly sweetness of spoiling meat. There was an unnatural bouquet about it. It grew on her much the way the smell of the outside had in the passing weeks during her time apart from the vault.

A looming sculpture sat in the middle of the floor. Her eyes followed the twisted countenances of the blackened marbled bodies that clung to the jagged jutting form, all piling up onto one another. Each carved figure contorted upwards in a permanent dance of tangled limbs and grasping hands. Joanna made her way up the staircase alongside the massive stone pillar. Snaking her eyes around the tall artwork, she looked at each new face in the stone as it came to view. The topmost figure stretched its hands far, so close to whatever goal lay just out of reach. Joanna had the urge to reach her arm out to stroke the tips of her fingers along the unanswered hand.

Mumbled voices filtered in from behind her, breaking Joanna's concentration from the forever seeking plea of the statue. The Ninth Circle's main door was just a few steps from her now. She was so nervous for today, but she couldn't go on without doing what she had set out to accomplish.

Looking down at her Pipboy, she adjusted the dials to show her the time. The bar should be open. Joanna wasn't certain if she should try for the handle or wait to see if the door would be opened for her by an expecting Ahzrukhal. For a moment she bit at her lips, thinking maybe it best to wait for some other ghoul to step inside first.

"Come on, damn it," she whispered to herself. Any other hesitation she pushed down deep inside, knowing what had to be done. With a nod to no one but herself, she reached for the door, finding it unlocked. As she twisted the handle, she knocked lightly at the wooden door to try and make herself known before barging in.

She walked into the Ninth Circle for her second time, feeling no more confident than her first. Ahzrukhal and Charon were both seated at the table near the door.

"Ah. Here she is," the portly ghoul made a motion to rise, chair screeching back against the hard floor as he stood. Before she could say anything, the ghoul drew his arm around her waist, the clumsy weight of his fatly veined hand coming to rest on her hip. Ahzrukhal put a small amount of pressure on her, guiding Joanna a little further into the bar and a little closer into his side.

"I hope I'm not too early," she tried her best to sound friendly despite her physical repulsion to the situation. Pressed so tightly into his side, she could feel the tremors of his labored breaths vibrating inside his barreled chest, akin to that of a purring cat. Although a bit more filled out than other ghouls she had encountered, Ahzrukhal's body was surprisingly hard against her. The grip on her waist slipped a hair lower.

"Not at all. We were just waiting on you, isn't that right Charon?" his employer wheezed, squeezing the girl a little more in his hands. Charon had only grunted an acknowledgment.

"I'll try to make it a quick trip," Joanna stated, not particularly directing the comment to one or the other.

"No need, no need. Do not rush on Charon's account," Ahzrukhal's hand dipped lower, and in a smooth singular motion found its way to her backside, "take all the time you need. I'm sure if you must you can find a way to repay me for hanging onto him for a little extra. We can work out the details when all this is done." His hand squeezed at her ass before patting her lightly.

Joanna made a noise that wasn't all too clear to even her own ears. It sounded meek and pitiful, but she couldn't bring herself to talk with the lump she found herself with in her throat. Ahzrukhal must have felt sated with her reaction as he let her go, shuffling over to his place at the bar.

"You should get going now before everyone wakes up," he waved at the still seated ghoul, "remember what I said Charon."

Joanna saw Charon rise to his feet, she swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the damn lump still caught in her throat. Until now, she couldn't fully appreciate his true height, being that he slouched so badly against the wall upon their first meeting. He was tall. Very tall. Definitely the tallest ghoul she had ever seen, probably the tallest person she had ever seen as well.

The ghoul was clad in mostly metal armor with leather filling out bits in between plates, far bettering her own ill begotten apparel. Where his armor didn't cover left her with a small glimpse of his remaining flesh. Charon was tinged slightly more red and ruddy than other ghouls. Joanna thought most likely due to his thinner patches of skin having to stretch over more copious amounts of muscle or that he possibly had better blood flow than some of his kind.

At the top of his head sat a crown of burgundy colored hair plastered down in an almost sticky looking mass. She couldn't figure out if that was normal or if he was just wet. Did ghouls bother to bathe? As she approached, she could smell the strong scent of alcohol and skunky stink of chems roll off him in waves. She decided personal hygiene was not the cause of the mussy look of his hair.

A low growl emanated from Charon as he crowded her out of the Ninth Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally will be beginning this small outing. Some minor things will be tweaked about the quest line. Just for future note, I will not always be using in game quest outings for these two so you won't just be reading retellings of the same events we all know over and over. These first few chapters are a bit of a slog for some set up before our characters officially pair up. Also, I hope you all like Underworld because they will end up there quite a bit...because ghouls are cool...


	5. The First Missteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off we go to the Museum of Technology.

The two made a strange pair but few gave them much mind as they descended down to the main floor. As they reached the bottom of the stairwell Joanna turned to her hired help.

"So...do you need anything from Tulip's before we go? Ammo, food, that sort of thing?" She bit the side of her cheek waiting for his response.

Charon only shook his head, looking off somewhere else. Joanna briefly mentioned their objective, flipping through her Pipboy to show him pictures while Charon wordlessly acknowledged that he understood.

The trip to the Museum of Technology didn't take long. Both the vault dweller and ghoul remained silent on the way over. Previously, a gang of super mutants had taken root in some make shift trenches at the heart of the mall. Brotherhood soldiers had made quick work of them though, leaving relatively fresh corpses to fill the hastily carved out ground. Joanna counted herself lucky she missed that particular fight before arriving in Underworld.

She stepped over some long dead radroaches as she climbed the steps to the main door. Before she could push her way through the entrance, Charon stopped her. The ghoul pushed her back, listening first at the door, before slowly cracking it open. He peered inside for a long minute before letting her and himself through.

Inside the museum Joanna was met with a familiar scent of mildew and decay, but there was something else perfuming the air. A strange acrid stinging filled her nose as her tongue tasted a bitter sulfur laying heavy in her mouth. It seemed familiar but she couldn't place the smell.

"Super mutants," Charon warned quietly. The first words he had actually said since they left. A tingle ran up Joanna's spine, unsure if it was from the danger or the intimidating ghouls voice. He was close to her now, closer than he had been before. Joanna felt dwarfed by his sheer size, her heart once again beat a fast rhythm in her chest pounding at her ribs. She almost feared the ghoul could hear it.

Charon crept along up the stairs, scouting out their path leaving Joanna to look around the first main floor trying to see if there was anything useful around. It was dark in the room, only letting her see feint outlines of larger structures.

 Walking behind what likely used to be the front desk, her boots squelched in what felt like thick mud. She felt it safe enough to blip on the light of her Pipboy, regretting it as soon as the light revealed what she was stepping in.

A thick puddle of dark red muck leaked out of a chained sack, human limbs with blackened digits poked through at awkward angles. The soupy stew of jellied organ meat and syrup sticky blood was hard to pull her foot from. She stumbled back with the light, only for it to fall upon a dead super mutant, his body a pale green and teaming with maggots.

In her shock, she slipped while trying to pry her foot away, only barely catching herself on the nearby desk ledge. Joanna and Charon had just passed a dozen super mutant corpses but she didn't exactly take the time to really look at any of them. As gross as she found the green beast, she couldn't ignore the pull of her curiosity.

Its torso was covered in a series of burned patches and ragged holes. One of its meaty hands was clutched around some kind of large metal device. Joanna couldn't make out what the mysterious item was, but wondered what value it held to the mutant. Curiosity once again got the better of her as she held her breath and reached towards the body. She cringed as she poked its fingers to the side to try and get a better look.

Some piece of Pre-War technology, she reasoned, looking at the intricate buttons and seamless design of whatever the thing was. As to the function of the object she still wasn't sure, but she knew one thing: she wanted it. Her fingers pinched tightly around the exposed metal, trying her best to keep from touching the corpse. When she felt she had a firm enough grasp she gave a gentle tug.

The small disruption was enough to cause the mutants head to lull to the side. It's jaw slacked open, a foul black ooze rolling out and onto its shoulder. One eye loosely dangled from a sinewy thread deep in the socket. She felt the contents of her stomach jump to her mouth and she pulled back abruptly taking the object of interest with her. Her palms felt slick but she grasped the artifact tightly to her chest.

"Vaultie," a voice called from above her. Spinning around she looked up at Charon, now leaning over the railing of the second floor. "Stop wasting time. You don't want to owe Ahzrukhal."

Joanna nodded, swallowing back her breakfast, which she supposed made it her lunch now. Wiping as much of the gunk as she could off her shoe, she followed quickly up the stairs behind the waiting ghoul.

\-----

The doors opened to something unexpected. In the darkness Joanna thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Rough rocks textured the walls, like a faux underground tunnel. Before she could turn her Pipboy on, a dim light clicked in the room, illuminating their path. A disembodied voice came to life in a burst of static.

_Vault-tec welcomes you to our new line of subterranean vaults featuring our patented Triple-S Technology-_

Joanna could now clearly see the opening of what looked to be a vault door in front of her. Just her luck that this museum had an entire exhibit devoted to the one place she would like to forget. Quickly she set off down the tour route, only looking up to discreetly glance at her companion. He held his shotgun in his hands, eyes set straight ahead of them. She was glad Charon didn't seem particularly interested in taking the audio tour.

As they continued through the replicated vault experience, Joanna took a closer look at the artifact she had uncovered downstairs. In the dim lighting she found some light lettering etched into the side. Tracing her fingers along she sounded out the ghosted words: stealth boy.

Joanna's brow furrowed as she turned the large blocky device in her hands. She had seen stealth boys before but never one that looked like this. The cumbersome weight of it felt anything but stealthy. Maybe this was some other kind of model? Perhaps it worked better or longer because of its size?

The possibilities kept her mind busy as she kept up her brisk pace through the exhibit. She didn't want to see this bizarro version of her old home. Vault 101 was just one malfunction away from becoming this: an abandoned network of dusty tunnels and prerecorded Vault-Tec approved messages.

As soon as the exit came into view, she didn't wait for Charon, instead opting to make a beeline for the door.

\------

Joanna took no time barging into the next room. She found herself now at the top of an empty stairwell. The girl gasped as something latched onto the back of her collar, yanking hard enough to cause whiplash.

"You will not do that again," the rough tone of the ghoul's voice made her shiver. She instinctually pulled to move away, only to have him yank at her again. "Running blindly into rooms will get you killed. More importantly, it will get me killed. I suggest you keep that in mind, human."

Joanna could only nod, feeling a shameful heat rise to her face. Charon removed his hand, freeing her to rub at her sore neck.

"You will follow my lead," he said beginning down the winding stairs.

She said nothing.

A tall rocket sat motionless on display at the center of the stairwell, its pointed tip becoming smaller as the two made their way to the bottom.

The map on her Pipboy showed they were already getting close to their objective. Joanna sighed to herself. At least things have gone relatively well despite her obvious lack of common sense. Before they even neared the exit door, the feint smell of eggs caught her nose. She looked to Charon.

"Mutants?"

He nodded as he listened at the entranceway to the next area. Crouching down, Charon placed a single finger to his ruined lips, and motioned for her to follow him into the next room.

As the door opened the feint smell became overpowering. Joanna felt herself choking on the scent, feeling it burn into her skin.

The urge to run was doused as she peered further into the room. Joanna could clearly see the spacecraft she had been looking for, recognizing it from her tiny picture stored in her Pipboy. Just as clearly visible as the spacecraft, two hulking super mutants sat perched above on a second level. Thankfully, the corner they entered from had a decent amount of cover and was shrouded in darkness.

Charon's body seemed to tense as she patted his shoulder, pointing in the direction of the spacecraft and super mutants. He shook his head, pulling her back into the safety of the empty stairwell.

"If that is the item you need, you must stay here while I take care of the mutants."

"We can do it together. There's two of them. If we rush them -" he cut her off.

"No," he pushed her a little further back, his massive presence making her feel very small. "You will stay here."

Joanna bit at her lip trying to think of something to make him accept her help. After all, she made it this far. She knew she wasn't much in a fight but she was adept in navigating a safe way around them.

"I have another idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prototype stealth boys were located in the museum atrium. They are actually larger models than the normal ones. I thought it was neat when I played so I wanted to give a nod to it. I know there were a butt ton of super mutants outside and in the building but I'm pretty sick of swarming mob fights especially when the Brotherhood is like right there. 
> 
> There will still be a lot of super mutants because it's DC and they are a big problem. I'm going to turn the heck down on raiders though.


	6. Great Ideas and Poor Executions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little taste of action for you.

Charon stood back an arm's length away as Joanna crept up towards the spacecraft. She knew this idea was risky and that Charon had not been all too receptive of it, but she was still glad he was giving her the chance to prove her worth.

The stealth boy was a heavy weight on her chest. Normally the smaller versions could be easily strapped to a wrist, but this large model wasn't as consumer friendly. She had secured the device as firmly as she could before she had initiated the cloaking field. Now as she inched her way closer to the Lunar Lander, she felt grateful the old thing even worked.

In great booming voices the super mutants above began to converse with one another. They remained seemingly unaware of the distortion in space around her shimmering shield or the ghoul tucked in the corner behind her.

"STUPID METAL MEN! STUPID! STUPID!" one of the green monsters stomped from above.

The other seemed less agitated than his counterpart. "Shut mouth. Can't think with so much noise! Feel hungry."

"WE GO NOW! GO KILL THEM! EAT THEM!"

Joanna's hands shook as she listened to the two argue above her but she was close enough to begin her work. As she tried to unbolt the dish from the craft, the metal groaned with the strain.

The louder one quieted, "You hear that?"

Her blood ran cold as she froze in place.

She didn't dare look up but could hear at least one of the mutants make a few thudding paces. A bead of sweat collected at her temple. A feint buzzing in her ears told her the stealth field was still up.

"You jumpy like human. All I hear is stupid big mouth...and stomach. So hungry." The two went back to their previous grumbling.

Joanna let out a steady exhale as she once again pried at the dish, feeling it give way to her slow efforts. This time she felt its weight fall heavy into her hands, now freed from the Virgo II. She gripped the relay tight, hoping her field was enough to mask the object.

Turning around, she saw Charon still crouched in the corner, giving her a small nod.

Moving back towards the corner proved more difficult than the approach. Her feet turned to jelly and her hands felt moist, struggling to maintain her hold on the cumbersome object. Just before she could get back to the safety of the shadows, her strength gave way and the metal saucer dumped to the floor with a deafening clash.

"KNEW I HEARD SOMETHING!"

The two green creatures bellowed as Joanna watched Charon jump to his feet.

"GHOUL! KILL IT!"

A volley of plasma energy shot towards the spot Charon had been hiding, but the ghoul bounded out of the way with surprising speed. He ran up the small staircase next to him, drawing more of their fire as he sprang ever closer to the mutants.

Joanna realized that not a single round was spent on her. The shield cloaking her body was still active. All she could bring herself to do was turn just enough to watch Charon make his way towards the attackers.

At closer range, one mutant wielding a large board in hand ran to take a swing at the incoming ghoul. Charon only threw his shoulder forward, colliding with the massive bulk of the monster. The plasma armed mutant continued firing into the fray, only managing to blast a shot into the back of his brother.

A pained wail escaped the struck beast, allowing Charon the leverage to toss his weight up and over his shoulder, dumping the large creature unceremoniously to the floor. The brutal impact shook the entire second level. Joanna couldn't believe he made the feat look so easy.

The other mutant took a pause to reload his weapon, not seeing the barrel of Charon's shotgun already pointed at him. It's head exploded in a mist of red. Joanna felt a few flecks of something wet land on her cheeks, but she remained too stunned to wipe at her face.

She only continued to stand as she saw Charon holster the gun to his back and walk towards the groaning mutant left on the floor behind him. He picked up the makeshift weapon that lay next to the pathetic thing and, for a moment, seemed to test the board's weight in his hands.

The tall ghouls expression remained vacant to Joanna as he brought the plank down on the super mutants head, cracking it like an overripe melon. Over and over he brought the large board down until the sharp cracking noises slowly dulled into soft squelching thuds against the floor.

Her concentration was broken as she heard a small pop emanating from the device strapped to her chest. Something in the stealth boy must have fried. The shield dropped as she smacked at the damaged equipment, trying to see if it would come back to life.

As she gave up her futile attempts at resuscitating the Pre-War tech, she felt heat at her back. A sticky moist warmth became gradually stronger, making her rub at the dampness collecting at her neck. Turning back, she was met with the single most horrifying sight she had come across in her travels so far.

Three long tendril like tongues waggled out towards her, all deeply rooted in the mouth of a distorted humanoid face. The creature dragged itself across the floor on its hands, conjoined limbs all convulsing together to propel the fleshy being in her direction. Its musculature and opposable thumbs made the slobbering animal eerily familiar.

Joanna jumped back, leaving the relay dish on the floor. The thing followed, its arms all twitching to life under its weight. Quickly, Joanna reached into her holster to grab at her 10mm pistol. She fumbled trying to retrieve it, the sweat of her hands making it difficult to retain her hold on the grip.

She backed away creating as much distance as she could before her back hit a wall. Knowing she didn't have much time before it closed the gap, she raised her hand in a shaky aim. She would only get one shot, two if she was lucky, to down the creature.

Joanna squeezed the trigger and prayed.

Nothing but a small click answered her. The gun, she realized, wasn't loaded.

\------

Charon bashed the board to the floor again, not yet feeling satisfied. The mutants head had become a bloody pulp that pooled around the ghouls boots. With one last grunt, Charon buried the board back down into the wet mess, breathing hard through his teeth.

Finally sated, he let the makeshift weapon fall from his hands only to let it rejoin its previous owner on the floor. He paused to regain a hold of himself.

A strange growl from bellow caught his attention. He leaned over the railing to see a hysterical Joanna backed into a wall, a centaur closing in on her.

Joanna had her pistol drawn, finger slipping over the trigger frantically. Again and again the weapon clicked, but nothing happened. Charon grabbed his shotgun from his back urgently, but was too late to stop the creature from wrapping one of its barbed tongues around Joanna's outstretched forearm.

He saw her pistol clatter to the floor as she screamed.

\------

The monster's tongue was warm around her arm. Joanna felt a sharp sting as her skin was broken against the tiny teeth that lined the length of the long muscle.

Her screaming continued as the thorned prehensile whip reeled her forward. She pulled hard against its pull only to tighten the constricting appendage further around herself. Another scream tore out of her.

Time seemed to slow around her as her mind replaced her panic with a numb euphoria. She wasn't sure if her eyes were working correctly as she saw a figure descend through the air just above the creature.

A large black boot crushed into the back of the mutant. Its tendriled mouth released her arm as it writhed under the weight of the massive ghoul now standing on its back. Only now that her arm was freed did her brain catch up to the scene at hand, realizing Charon must have jumped over the balcony to her rescue.

He connected the butt of his shotgun to the creatures head, causing the animal to gurgle what she assumed was a scream. Charon flipped the shotgun around, jamming the barrel into the opening of its face at the base of its three pronged tongue. He unloaded his second shot today down the mutants throat.

\-------

Charon stepped off the now dead centaurs back. He ignored the pain that shot up his leg as he strode over to where Joanna now laid.

Her face was a white mask of terror. Drying flecks of blood freckled her cheeks.

She reached for her pistol with her good arm. Her lips trembled apologies at him, quietly repeating that she didn't know the gun wasn't loaded.

Deep down in his stomach he felt nothing but anger.

"What the fuck was that?" he yelled pointing at the relay dish on the ground, now coated with fresh centaur blood. "All you had to do was walk three steps back. How could you not manage to walk three steps back?"

He spat at the ground, "And that," he pointed at her 10mm, "give me that."

Before she could protest, he ripped the gun out of her hands.

"Give me that back! It's mine!"

"Not right now it isn't." He said, pocketing the weapon.

He saw her rush to her feet, "How am I supposed to protect myself?" She stubbornly asked.

"Good question. Perhaps you should have thought of it sooner," he felt his bubbling anger die down to a simmering annoyance.

"It will do better in my possession. Besides," he picked up the metal dish from the ground shoving it into her hands, "your hands are needed for a different task. Try to master holding something for more than a second before you go waving a gun around," he snorted in contempt, "even if the damn things not loaded."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick and bloody little fight. Trying to ease myself into this whole writing process by putting in bits of different things here in the beginning. I know it's six chapters in but I'm still considering this pretty darn early. Planning on this being a long fic. Like pretty darn long. Hopefully anyway... I like writing it but I'm not sure reading it will be as much fun for people. lol. That's okay though. :)
> 
> Also, my Charon is a little sassy here and there.


	7. The Things You're Good At

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Joanna finally is pretty good at something.

They made their way out of the museum in silence. Charon was glad that she wasn't prone to idle chatter, or at least that she was uncomfortable enough to avoid it. She knew when to shut up. That was about the only trait of hers that proved useful during their trip.

Charon could feel a deep ache in his leg from jumping off the balcony. He was careful not to show his slight limp as the two approached their next stop, the Washington Monument.

The ghoul knew that the Brotherhood of Steel kept the place surrounded. Ghouls often got picked on by the power armored soldiers that had nothing better to do. Weakness was not something he wanted to show them.

A soldier stopped the pair before the closed entrance gate.

"Hold up there. Keep the hands up where I can see them zombie," the armored man shook a laser rifle at him, "Just where do you two think you're headed?"

Joanna's voice remained calm and clear. "We were sent by Three Dog. I need to install this," she held the relay dish out, "it will get the radio signal back."

"Is that so?" his voice sounded like he was mocking her. "If you think you can get the damn thing to work be my guest, but your friend here," he gestured again, pointing the rifle at Charon's chest, "he ain't going with you."

Joanna placed herself between Charon and the soldier's rifle. This is a second trait of hers that he noticed. She had a knack of getting in the way.

"If he doesn't come with me then I'll have to leave him here," she shrugged, "If you want to keep a ghoul as company all day that's fine with me."

The soldier bristled, clearly she had won. "Damn it, I don't have time to babysit no shuffler!" He lowered his weapon and opened the gate, "Fine. Just get in before I change my mind."

Charon let his mouth cock into a half smirk as they passed the irritated Brotherhood soldier. Maybe, he thought, the kid had some uses after all.

\------

At the top of the monument, a large opening in the narrow building looked out towards the mall. The sun was beginning to set, casting the room in a rich golden glow. Charon felt the setting sun's rays bathe what was left of his flesh in a blanket of warmth.

Charon watched as Joanna worked. She remained quiet as she adjusted the various wires in the tiny room around before picking up the dish to install. Every so often he could hear her whisper to herself or hum small parts of some unknown tune.

The domesticity of the scene felt foreign, but he couldn't deny the strange comfort it brought. Seeing her so engrossed in her work made him reflect more on her character. Earlier today she was klutzy and couldn't keep a grip on anything. Now her fingers moved deftly, with a precision Charon couldn't help but admire.

This is the kind of shit she should be doing, he thought to himself, not wandering around in the ruins.

As she worked he couldn't help but notice her bloody sleeve, slightly torn from the encounter with the centaur. While she finished her repairs to the antenna, he came up behind her, tearing the rest of the sleeve from her shirt.

"Hey! What the hell was that for?" She sounded annoyed. He was glad.

"The centaur broke the skin," he replied, turning her arm over to inspect the tiny gashes, "I am assisting you as I have been commanded."

He brought out a small bottle of alcohol from one of his pockets, wetting the ripped cloth to dab at her flesh wounds.

Joanna winced but didn't pull away. He was glad of this too. Charon didn't want to argue with her over another stupid thing. As he tried to clean her arm, he felt a bit of discomfort at his sense of touch being dulled by his gloved hands but he kept them covered for her own sake.

"I can do this myself you know. I am a doctor's daughter after all..."she winced again as he rewet the fabric.

"Then as a doctor's daughter you should know better than to leave it like this," he brought out a small length of fabric, using it to wrap tightly around her now clean skin, "and you should know a centaur's saliva can make infection set in fast."

She laughed a bit. "A centaur? Is that what those things are called?"

He nodded. "Small wounds can turn fast out here, especially given by those." He let her arm go after finishing his bandaging. "You should count yourself lucky it did not spit at you. Its acid can leave you looking worse than this." He gestured at his own face.

If she was going to say something she missed her chance as the dull static in the background broke into a triumphant man's voice. Three Dog blared to life over the radio, crystal clear and more eager than Charon had ever remembered him being.

Charon backed away from Joanna, placing the pistol he had taken from her earlier back into her holster.

"Our objective is completed. Let us return to the Ninth Circle quickly, before Ahzrukhal demands additional compensation," he stated.

On the elevator ride back down to the ground Charon felt Joanna's eyes on him.

"Since we're parting ways and all...do you think you could give me some advice?" she asked softly.

Charon sighed, "What kind of advice do you wish for?"

"Oh. Umm...I guess what advice do you have for me on surviving out here?"

Charon thought about her request for a moment before responding, "You will not on your own."

Out of his periphery he could see her arm move to her brow. He could not tell if she was wiping sweat or tears from her eyes. Quiet sniffling caught his ear, but he didn't turn to look directly at her. This temporary contract was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked that cramped little room at the top of the memorial.  
> No need to drag on further. Let's get going already! ~


	8. Impulses and Good Buys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some brief(ish) sexual acts, but not between who you want. Not who I want anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahzrukhal gets a small last POV before the RIP.

Ahzrukhal worked at the bar in the Ninth Circle like it was just any other day. Of course his regular patrons kept glancing at the vacant corner of the bar where his employee normally kept guard, but few dared asked him about it.

At first, he had been hesitant about not having Charon around, thinking someone would surely take advantage of his vulnerable position, but things seemed to be going smoothly all day. Ahzrukhal knew that Charon held an unspeakable amount of animosity towards him. It was clear every time he looked up at his corner. Now all he saw was the peeling wallpaper.

This hadn't been the first time he had sent him out on a request. On occasion, he let Charon out to attend to small matters, normally between some of his suppliers. Today was different though. He hadn't just let his dog out to run, he had handed his leash to someone else.

Ahzrukhal had made it his responsibility to keep the large ghoul in line, a responsibility that up until now he had not truly realized the weight of. If anything he should be commended for the years of bringing Charon to heel. He may have been brainwashed long before his time but he liked to think he had a hand in a few years of extra conditioning.

He began closing his shop as normal until he heard a knock on his door. Joanna brought a rougher looking Charon back to the Ninth Circle. The GNR radio station, as she had promised, was now coming in clear as a bell.

"I suppose congratulations are in order. Not only did you manage to get my employee back unharmed, but you managed to fix the signal," Ahzrukhal poured some whiskey out into two clean glasses, offering one out to Joanna. He actually felt a little surprised to see them both back before the days end, and maybe just a touch disappointed.

The girl took the glass but didn't drink. She looked a bit shaken, absorbed in some unhappy thought.

"Now why the long face?" he tried his best to coo at her, moving a few strands of her hair back behind her ear, "I imagine Charon was on his best behavior, wasn't he?" He stole a look up at his guard who only shrugged.

Joanna was quick to defend him, "Charon was great. More than great. I can see why you value his line of...talents." Her eyes fell back down to her full drink in hand, still looking like she was at war with herself.

"Something you need from me smoothskin?" he inquired.

"Yes. There is something I need from you," she looked nervously up from her drink only to glance back towards Charon, "but could we talk in private? Please?" Her fingers anxiously ran along the rim of her glass.

Ahzrukhal felt a heat pooling low in his belly at her words. He looked up at Charon and waved to dismiss him outside while they spoke alone.

"So tell me," he smiled, thumbing at the buttons of his suit jacket, "what exactly do you need from ol' Uncle Ahzrukhal?"

\------

Joanna felt like a thousand moths were fluttering in her stomach, chewing at her insides like an old Pre-War sweater. She needed to make a deal but had little to offer. She knew she would have to choose her words carefully.

"I wanted to discuss Charon's contract with you," she began trying to regulate her breathing as she continued to stand with the full glass of whiskey in her hands.

A small frown formed on Ahzrukhal's face, "Oh? I thought we had already discussed that particular subject. Surely we could find a more interesting topic..." His fingers began to work at the buttons of his suit jacket, allowing the front to open to reveal an even dingier looking undershirt.

"How much do you want for the contract?" she asked keeping her eyes glued to her drink.

Ahzrukhal hummed to himself, "What exactly do you have to offer?" He started to make his way around the bar towards her.

"I can only spare 200 caps and maybe 10 pieces of old world paper," she knew the offer was little to begin with. Even with Winthrop's discount, the amount would have barely covered the cost to fix her sniper rifle.

Ahzrukhal scoffed, "You're joking. You need to make me a serious offer."

She tried to keep the drink in her hands from shaking, "What do you want?"

Joanna felt Ahzrukhal's hands fall on her shoulders from behind, his face was placed close to her ear as he breathed. "I don't think you have the stomach for what I want," he ran his hands down the length of her arms and back up again to her shoulders, "but you don't seem to mind getting your hands a little dirty, eh?"

She could feel his chest rumble behind her back in quiet laughter.

"How would you feel about getting rid of someone for me?" he asked still pressing closer in behind her.

"Getting rid of someone? You mean...like killing them?"

Ahzrukhal let out an affirmative noise, now stroking down the sides of her back.

"Isn't that what Charon is for?" she gasped as his grip at her waist tightened.

"Not in this case," he whispered raggedly in her ear, "it wouldn't do for my employee to be seen slitting the neighbor's throats now would it?"

"I can't." Joanna shook her head. "I won't kill someone for you."

Ahzrukhal pushed her back into his pelvis, crushing her small frame against him.

"You want Charon's contract or not?" his voice growled in her ear while she nodded. "Then if you won't get your hands dirty, it'll be your knees. You're choice."

Joanna brought the whiskey up to her mouth, swallowing the full glass, before placing the empty container onto the table before them. Her answer must have been clear enough. She felt her head being tipped sideways, followed by a searing sting as Ahzrukhal buried his teeth deep into her neck.

\------

Charon shifted his weight on his feet, feeling a bit on edge as he waited outside the door to the Ninth Circle. Having the girl alone with his employer made him nervous for several reasons. Even if she proved herself to be relatively incompetent when it came to fighting, he still felt the ghostly hand of his contract snaking beneath his skin. Everything in him twitched to stay alert, to listen for his employers cries for help even though he knew they weren't going to come.

His contract compelled him to feel overly protective over Ahzrukhal, but even through his bitter inner turmoil, he still felt a twinge of guilt reach out for the girl. Charon knew what the bastard was capable of, but there wasn't any way of stopping the girl from putting herself in harm's way. Not that he should be bothered to care. Anything that went wrong was her fault. He wasn't obligated to help her stupidity.

Still, Charon found himself listening at the door, struggling to keep himself from cracking it open to peek inside. He just wanted to make sure Ahzrukhal was safe, he needed to make sure Ahzrukhal was safe.

His hand went to the brass knob of the Ninth Circle's door.

\-------

"Take this off," wheezed Ahzrukhal, tugging at her chest piece.

She obliged, forcing her hands to unbuckled the clasps keeping the well worn piece of leather on her. Before she could move to undo her flannel shirt, Ahzrukhal ripped it open. A few of the buttons popped, rolling away from sight as soon as they reached the floor.

Her shirt lay open exposing a tightly wound strip of cloth pressing her breasts firmly against her. Now she could feel the ragged edges of the ghouls flesh run across her torso freely. She screwed her eyes shut as she saw the corpse like hands grazing her ribs up towards her bound chest.

His fingers worked clumsily at her bindings until she felt her breasts hit the chill dank air of the bar. Her eyes remained closed as she felt a groping hand squeeze the tender skin. His hands felt cold and abrasive, causing her flesh to pebble under his fondling.

"So sensitive," he purred at her, his breath leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

He backed her to the edge of the counter, having her turn to face him. She winced as Ahzrukhal yanked at her already wounded arm. Joanna opened her eyes, only to look far away in the distance to the corner Charon normally occupied. She wondered what Charon would think if he knew what she was doing.

\------

Charon stopped himself, taking his hand away from the door. He stepped over to the railing looking over the ugly statue that rose up from the ground floor, trying to concentrate on anything but whatever might be transpiring between the two in the bar.

He was thankful he wasn't her body guard. There was no way he would put up with a girl like Joanna doing such risky things. At least Ahzrukhal had a sense of self preservation.

\-----

Ahzrukhal chuckled, leaning his head down to lath his tongue over the dusky rose coloring of her nipple. She shuddered and held her eyes tightly closed. He nipped hard at the small bud until she groaned.

"Very sensitive," he laughed more as he replaced his mouth for his fingers, tweaking the sore skin between them.

His head lowered back to her collar bone, sucking over her beating heart. His face felt kind of wet to Joanna, almost sticky, making her stomach wretch at the thought of him actively decaying.

His teeth scrapped at her collar and she let out a pained gasp as he bit down hard, latching onto her and driving his teeth further into her skin. Ahzrukhal grunted, pinning her arms to her sides to keep her still as she struggled while he continued to press his teeth down. Joanna let her gasp break into a wail as she felt him puncture her flesh. She looked down to see a trickle of red curving down her breasts.

Ahzrukhal pulled his face back to admire his handiwork. He could taste her blood on his lips, sweeter than he imagined her being. He could see tears welling in her eyes, so ever the gentlemen, he wiped them away, leaving small trails of fresh blood over her cheeks instead. The deep wound he left on her otherwise unmarred skin made him feel alive and in control. The scent of her blood alone made his body pulse with a craving he couldn't quite place.

As much as he wanted to take his time, he felt an urgency underlay his movements. This would be over quicker than he would like and he didn't feel it in him to go again. He wasn't as young or devilishly ghoulish as he used to be.

He began to push her down by her shoulders until she was left kneeling before him. Her eyes remained shut but he didn't care. He unfastened his pants, guiding her head to his aching cock.

"Open," he demanded, giving her hair a sharp pull.

Joanna felt her strength leave her as she opened her mouth, allowing Ahzrukhal to place something heavy and foul on her tongue. She gagged on the intruding appendage as it made its way to poke towards the back of her throat. The restriction on her airway forced her to breathe deeply through her nose. Her stomach flipped with the scent of the air, laden with a putrid musky odor.

Ahzrukhal continued to grunt obscenities as he thrust into her open mouth, pulling at her hair while she choked on him.

Her knees hurt under her own weight on the hard concrete. Snot and tears streamed down her face. The entire experience was suffocating. The odd texture running the length of her tongue made her gag. Joanna felt her teeth scrap against his shaft as he forced himself back into her mouth earning her a hiss and sharp tug from the ghoul.

His pacing picked up speed and his movements became more erratic. After a particularly hard thrust, Ahzrukhal came with a low throaty groan.

 Joanna felt his spend pump into the back of her throat in short spurts. Her head tore away out of Ahzrukhal's loosened grip. Shakily, she began heaving the rancid liquid onto the floor. The taste was something she couldn't place, like a warm salted bleach, an unusual chemical flavor making her feel anything but clean.

She continued to retch as she felt something sticking to the back of her throat. Coughing hard into her hand dislodged a thin sheet of nearly transparent tissue. The only thing she could guess was a piece of skin or some sort of filmy residue. The thought alone continued her spell of dry heaving.

\------

Charon wasn't sure what the girl was doing but it seemed to be taking longer than before. Maybe Ahzrukhal's paranoia was just starting to rub off on him. He had no reason to be concerned about their business. As he felt the urge again to check on the two in the bar, the door to the Ninth Circle opened. Joanna took a few steps out into the hallway, her eyes rimmed red and a bit paler than before.

He watched as the vault girl turned his way with a small smile playing at her swollen lips. As she approached him he suddenly felt unprepared.

"Hey Charon," she started.

He didn't respond aloud but gave her a small nod of acknowledgment.

"What you said before, when we were at the Washington Monument..."

She seemed to pause for him to say something, but he remained quiet, unsure where this was leading.

"I can't do this on my own. That's why," she pulled up an all too familiar piece of paper from her pocket, "I purchased your contract."

\------

If he was shocked, or happy, or upset, she really couldn't tell. Charon's face looked just as blank as it had when he was bashing that board into the super mutants head. She wasn't sure what she had expected from him to begin with, he was so stoic after all.

"You have purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" he asked.

She nodded, feeling that he must be pleased.

"So, I am no longer in his service. This is good to know," she watched as he pulled his shotgun from his back and reached into his pocket. Charon brought out a round of ammo, casually loading the shells into his gun as he spoke. "Please, wait here. I must take care of something."

Joanna felt uneasy as he stepped back into the Ninth Circle.

\------

Charon approached the bar gripping his gun tightly in his hands. Ahzrukhal lit a smoke behind his counter seeming unbothered by his threatening stance.

"Ahzrukhal, I have been told I am no longer in your employ."

"Yes, that is correct." He could hear the old lecherous ghoul's wheezing as he held his cigarette between what was left of his ruined lips, "Come to say goodbye Charon?"

Charon raised his shotgun, pointing it at Ahzrukhal. "Yes."

The first shot went straight into Ahzrukhal's chest, a large red flower blooming from the entry and splintering behind in a burst of splatter. A scream from outside was only drowned out for a moment by the sound of the second shot, a direct hit to his head. The shotgun blast blew the ghouls head apart, sending pieces flying and his body dropping like a stone.

Charon holstered his shotgun once more before Joanna burst through the door.

\-------

"Okay let's go," Charon said walking back over to the door of the Ninth Circle.

She looked at the mess behind the bar trying to think of something to say.

"Okay?" she repeated in near disbelief at his casual tone. She shook her head trying to make sense of it, "What the fuck was that?"

"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. So long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to do as he commanded," Charon shrugged adding, "But now you are my employer, which freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat. And now for good or ill, I serve you."

Joanna swallowed thickly. Maybe this wasn't as good of a buy as she thought. Looking back at his previous employers corpse, she realized that she too, for good or ill, was stuck with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it has happened. The contract has been purchased! 
> 
> This again is my first fanfic and I've never wrote much for smut before. (Never really wrote much of anything before tbh. Research papers mostly lol) This was a pretty quick and dirty glazing over of sorts to me but I feel it sufficient enough for what events have happened so far. I rewrote this whole chapter so this ended up vastly different from what had originally been intended...but that is okay because now I got some fresher ideas.  
> Now these two will be inseparable! Employer and employee out into the ruins and wasteland of DC! 
> 
> Chapter 9 will be out soon. I'm going to let the first 8 chill for a little. (I'm posting the first 8 right off the bat because I feel that the entire thing up to this point is really the beginning setup for what is to come and will be the most familiar to other fans. I want to have each chapter after introduce something substantial and satisfying so the updates will be a bit slower and hopefully worth it.)
> 
> I know this game is from 2008 and is collecting dust on shelves but I'm writing this anyway! 
> 
> Go Underworld! Go ghouls! Yay!


	9. The Masks We Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon's contract is officially Joanna's to have and to hold. As much as she would love to take the time to get to know the man who will be saving her skin regularly, she still has her mind set on previous engagements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has my favorite quest item.

The day hadn't turned out exactly how Joanna had expected, although to be fair, she wasn't really sure what she had expected to begin with. Certainly not this.

Ahzrukhal's body lay on the floor of the bar, a mass of bloodied ghoul wrapped in pin striped fabric. His head was nearly gone, a majority of which lay strewn across the counter, unrecognizable. Onlookers gathered faster than flies around the remains. Shocked glances flicked back and forth between the Ninth Circle's late owner and his former loyal employee. Charon seemed ignorant of the crowd, passing through them nonchalantly closer to Joanna.

"It is late. You need rest," he observed.

Joanna still couldn't quite grasp the situation at hand, feeling that the past hour or so had been more of a dream than anything else. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the memorial while fixing the relay? Or maybe she is still in the vault suffering in some horrible coma?

In any case, all she could get herself to do was nod in weak agreement. She allowed for Charon to place a hand behind her back, gently guiding her out of the bar and across the way to Carol's Place. Although she was tired from the day's events, she didn't fail noticing the look of astonishment on Carol's face as she and Charon walked through the door.

Joanna was too tired for words, too tired to care, and too tired to fight Charon's careful guidance over to a vacant bed. She laid down, shutting her eyes tight, trying to ignore the bitter taste of bile on her tongue and the stiffness in her jaw. It wasn't long until she found herself overcome with exhaustion, letting her mind blank into dreamless rest.

\-----

Charon's ass hurt.

He sat on the ground at the foot of the bed where Joanna lay, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. The pain in his leg seemed to have spread upwards, making his back twist and groin ache. Each time he moved, the muscles in his leg pulled taught, constricting and throbbing with a building pressure. Charon kneaded the tender part of his thigh feeling out the extent of his injury. As he pressed into a particularly sore spot, he let out a sharp wince through his teeth.

Joanna stirred on the bed behind him. Glancing back, he saw she remained asleep, breathing softly as she settled back down onto her side. His new employer, he thought wearily. Talk about a pain in the ass. With a sigh, he searched in his pockets finding one of the few stimpacks he had left and sank the needle down into his thigh. The stimpack released a numbing effect on the area, the relief bringing him some peace of mind. A stimpack and some rest was all he needed.

He pocketed the spent needle back with the two other stims he had. Hopefully, wherever this girl was heading, they wouldn't need more than that.

Charon listened to the steady breathing behind him, so quiet it was almost hard to catch. Not like the grating unevenness of Ahzrukhal's wheezing snores in the night. As many times as Charon wished this day would come, he felt much less satisfied than he thought he would be. Maybe satisfaction was just something he couldn't achieve anymore, just another one of those things you slowly become deprived of over the years.

Ahzrukhal was gone now and Charon felt he needed to tuck all the years behind him so he could look forward. There was no need to dwell on things that were long out of his control.

His head pressed back into the foot of the bed, listening to Joanna sleeping. The pattern drowned everything else out. His eyes looked into the distance, feeling as though they were crossing as they lost focus, letting his mind blur along with his vision, until he felt at rest. His eyes never could seem to close properly when he wanted them too. It may not have been the same as real shut eye, but just as with his injuries, he had made do with worse.

\------

Joanna woke clutching a hand above her heart where she felt her wound itching beneath the rough fabric of her tight bindings. The dressing on her arm also felt uncomfortably warm and scratchy. Her back popped as she righted herself in the bed, only to feel the bruising on her knees more evidently than the night before.

The night before, she thought looking around at Carol's Place, it really did happen.

Charon was standing upright against the wall, holding a box of Fancy Lads out to her. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes thinking perhaps she was partly dreaming.

"It's from Carol," he explained.

Joanna took the treat from him and began hesitantly playing with the cardboard packaging as she opened it up. She wracked her brain searching to find something appropriate to talk about.

"Did you sleep well?" was the first thing that came out of her mouth and probably the last thing she cared about knowing at the moment, but she lacked the nerve to ask anything else.

Charon only shrugged his shoulders making Joanna feel even more nervous. The cellophane on the individually wrapped Pre-War pastries crinkled as she carefully tore them away.

"Did you want some?" she asked offering out one of the little cakes to him.

Charon shook his head continuing to watch her as she popped each piece into her mouth. She was grateful towards the novelty of the taste. It wasn't often she ate sweets in the vault, but even less so out in the wasteland.

"Not much of a talker in the morning, huh?" she said between bites.

"If conversation is what you wish than I shall provide it."

Joanna smiled, "That depends. Would the conversation just be more painfully rehearsed lines?"

"Only if you provide me with lines to rehearse."

She cocked her head, "Is that something I can ask you to do?"

"You can ask me to do anything, doesn't mean I will. You may command it of me and I will obey to the best of my abilities."

"So asking and giving orders are considered two different things? And I'm allowed to order you to do anything?"

"Not _anything_ ," he said sternly as his eyes narrowed, "there are limitations. Did you not read the contract?"

"I did...kind of," she said sheepishly knowing she had barely skimmed the document Ahzrukhal had given to her the night before. The thing was so old looking it was hard for her to read anything on it to begin with. "So could I command you to do something simple? Like could I command you to skip around or something?"

Charon rolled his eyes, "Are you really going to command me to do that?"

"Well...no," she swallowed her food hard, "but could I?"

The tall ghoul sighed loudly, "Yes. I suppose you could command me to do that," he looked down at her as she finished off the last of the box, "but don't."

"Fair enough," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "I suppose protecting me at all times is a given? Acting as my bodyguard and such..."

Charon only nodded but that was good enough for her. She felt awkward trying to force more conversation out of a man she barely knew, but here she was intrusting her safety over to him.

Joanna looked down at her Pipboy, adjusting the buttons until she could bring up the time. It was early and she didn't want to keep wasting the hours away down in Underworld when she had an objective to finish.

"Up for the second part of our little adventure?" she pulled up her map without looking at him for his reaction and showed him the little screen.

\-------

Charon followed behind Joanna as she bounced down the stairs towards Underworld's exit. The girl seemed in a better mood which irritated him. He didn't feel much like trekking up through the ruins to the GNR building plaza but she went on about how Three Dog was sure to be pleased upon seeing them.

Honestly, he didn't care about whether or not some asshole was pleased to see him, wasteland celebrity or otherwise.

He remained silent behind her as they made their way outside, nodding briefly at Willow who stood guard near the door. The ghoulette had a smug expression on and nodded back at the pair calling out to them.

"Have fun being a tour guide Charon!" The mirth in her voice made him grumble under his breath.

Joanna guided them down the stairs in front of the building that led into the subway system. Charon stopped her before she opened the gate.

"The tunnels are not safe mistress," he said watching her pull back a bit.

"Mistress?" she laughed a little but seemed to ignore his comment as she fiddled with the lock.

Again, he pushed for her to heed him, "I cannot permit you to go forward without voicing caution against your current action."

"Tunnels are safer than the rest of the ruins. I'm familiar with tunnels. Besides, it's how I've been getting around so easily," she put down her bag and started rummaging through as she continued, "I've only seen ferals this way. You're a ghoul so we should be fine. Now where did I put that -- aha!"

"What does me being a ghoul-" he stopped himself as he watched her pull what she was looking for from her bag.

The vault girl adjusted the item over her head, tugging down on the leathery looking material until her face aligned correctly with her newly adorned mask. Joanna's smooth features were now obscured fully, leaving Charon staring at the twisted face of a feral ghoul. The tanned flesh was colored differently in spots, several pieces of the molting hide quilted together by a pattern of thick hastily made looking stitches. Somehow the appropriated faces slapped altogether made the visage all the more ghoulish.

"Christ, kid. What the hell do you think you're doing with," he gestured at her face, "whatever the fuck that is?"

"It's a mask," her voice came out muffled by the material.

"Clearly."

"It protects me from ferals."

"It protects you from-" Charon was too stunned to finish the absurd sentence. He rubbed at his temples, "Look kid, I've seen a lot of shit in my day but that is crazy. You are crazy."

"I'll show you," she opened the gate to the subway and began walking in.

Charon grabbed at her good arm. "No. You may be as mindless as a feral but I am still bound to serve you. I cannot do that if you are dead."

"I thought Ahzrukhal said you do as commanded without question. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

"Ahzrukhal gave me orders that didn't need questioning. You, I need to question. This," he again gestured at her mask, "needs to be questioned."

"It works," she huffed, obviously becoming restless with the conversation. "We are taking the tunnel up to GNR. That is a command Charon."

Even through her mask he could hear the bit of nerves behind her order.

As much as he wanted to continue to talk of alternative routes, he felt a prickling under his skin. Her request was easy enough and if she died he would simply return to Underworld until an appropriate match was made. It's not like the ferals would bother him much, or the loss of her if he was being truthful.

"If this is what you wish, I shall follow."

\-------

The tunnels were dark, only dimly lit in places by old flickering fluorescents. The only things they stumbled upon in the entrance had been a few old bones and dead radroaches. Charon sniffed at the air. Through the moisture of the chilly subway he could smell a familiar rot from farther down. The same scent that lingered  in Underworld and on himself, the scent of a ghoul.

"Ferals ahead," he breathed quietly to Joanna. He saw her shake a bit but refuse to turn around; instead continuing down towards the tracks.

As they approached one of the long derailed trains, he could hear a low growling emanating from just beyond the bend in the tracks. Charon put his hand on Joanna's shoulder, getting close to her masked ear to warn her once more.

His new employer didn't let up her pace, as she raised her Pipboy and turned on the light.

The low growling ahead changed into a startled sound. Before Charon could unholster his gun, a stringy looking feral came into view.

The shambling corpse stared directly at the pair, its mouth opened wide, allowing a thick bubble of drool down its face...

And that's all.

The mutant didn't rush at them or scream warning to others. It just stood looking towards the light on Joanna's arm vacantly before turning away and staring back out into the darkness.

"See? I told you," she said just above a whisper to him.

He could barely hear her hushed tone through the mask but could distinctly make out her shit eating grin. He didn't need to see her face to know that.

On one hand, he was glad he wouldn't see her devoured by ferals; on the other hand, he was annoyed he wouldn't get to see her devoured by ferals. It was a confusing mixture of happy irritation that he was afraid he would become all too accustomed to if he found himself having to travel with her for a great length of time.

Charon did have to give her credit for one admirable trait of hers: ingenuity. Who would have thought a macabre mask could save her smooth hide down here with the wild mutant ghouls? Although, he hoped her little parlor trick wouldn't catch on. Ghouls were already disliked. If people knew slapping on a hollowed out face could protect them Underworld could easily become a shop for head hunters, literally.

If his body still had proper flesh, he was sure he would be getting goose bumps at the thought.

This Joanna was a sick woman indeed.

He silently continued to follow her from behind, pulling out his gun just in case a feral got wise to her shoddy disguise. Joanna played with her Pipboy as they weaved through the long stretches of tunnels, not even bothering to watch her surroundings. Charon could hardly believe she was still alive at this rate.

They passed by a few other ferals, all of which ignored the pair like the first. Joanna even nudged one of them out of her way as they squeezed through the side of another old train. Charon had to admit she had guts. Not many people would be alright with touching a ghoul, let alone a feral. He still wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity on her part.

A few hours in, Charon began to feel an annoying jolt run through his leg. He tried his best to ignore it but the pain started to grow with each step. One stimpack must not have been enough to tie him over. His fingers fumbled at the pocket that contained the other two stims, wondering in his hesitation if he should use what little they had on such an insignificant injury.

Joanna stopped suddenly, causing Charon to stiffen. He hoped his employer hadn't noticed his increasing agitation during their walk.

Instead of commenting on his predicament, she pointed towards a door hidden in an alcove along the tunnel wall.

"Just through here and to the gate. We made good time," she said letting the light go from her Pipboy.

The way became darker with the loss of the luminescent screen on her arm. Charon took the new cover to his advantage, allowing himself a small limp behind her, easing the pressure off his sore limb. Personal maintenance came second to her immediate safety. Once they were at GNR they could rest and resupply. He wondered what amount she had agreed upon to take up the foolish quest in the first place.

\------

Joanna was glad they had reached the plaza so quickly through the tunnels. The trek still took up a majority of the day, but it would still be light outside. Her mutant head covering was cooking her alive, trapping all her heat inside the mask as she breathed. The sweat from her hair mingled with the putrefied odor of the treated skin.

If the smell and heat wasn't enough to make her sick, the box of Fancy Lads she had eaten earlier in the day didn't seem to be sitting right with her. The rich confections had been the only thing she had eaten in over a day, and what she had before then was little to nothing as she traveled the ruins. Salt laced perspiration collected above her lips only reminding her how thirsty she was. Regret weighed heavy on her shoulders as her stomach churned around the Pre-War food.

She dared a glance over to her large ghoul counterpart. His face looked more drawn in and miserable than she had seen before. Joanna wondered if something was on his mind seeing his face so sullenly contemplative. Before she could speak a word, her belly let out a low pained growl that she prayed Charon couldn't hear. She didn't want to receive a lecture from her new ally about her incompetence yet again.

As they neared the exit gate Charon grabbed at her to pause once more. His hand felt large over the small roundness of her shoulder. Even with her armor on she couldn't mask the slightness of her build. Somehow even the smallest of gestures from him seemed large to her. She could feel his warmth press further behind her as he bent over to her covered ear, mumbling low.

"There's something wrong ahead. Keep low."

The hand at her shoulder pushed her down slowly to follow his lead. He moved with her, keeping her tucked close to him as they crept forward. The sudden caution and closeness between them made her heart flutter and face flush with anxiety.

Light from outside filtered in through the gate ahead, silhouetting two figures: one crouched and the other laying flat on the ground.

Joanna squinted against the harsh light, trying to adjust her eyes to focus in better as they got closer.

Once her eyes dilated, she could see the crouched figure was a feral who sat perched above the horizontal corpse of a raider at its feet. The low growls that escaped the mutant were broken apart by loud squishing sounds as the ghoul feasted on the entrails spilling out from the dead raider. The wild ghoul looked towards them, letting the meat slide from its mouth onto the concrete with a wet plop.

Joanna felt her own stomach knot tight until she couldn't bare it anymore. She braced an arm on the subway wall, hurriedly peeling the mask away from her mouth as she vomited down the side.

She couldn't see with her mask pulled up as it partly blocked her view, but she heard the feral let out a shrill scream before a loud shotgun blast rang out, returning the hollow silence of the subway.

Joanna removed her mask fully to look at Charon who was now toeing at the bodies.

She turned, puking again. Chunks of what she assumed were once Fancy Lads hit the floor in a mess of foamy liquid.

"Drink this," Charon's voice rumbled near her while placing a long unopened canister in her hand.

Joanna popped the tab, breaking the seal open, and greedily drank from the container. Pure water. It had been nearly a week since she had any. Irradiated water and an occasional Nuka Cola were the only things she had been able to come across in the ruins. The water felt cool running down her burning throat. She felt like she could cry at the relief.

"Slow down. You'll make yourself sick again," the large ghoul warned as she slowed her pace.

"Where did you get this?" she managed to gasp between drawn out sips.

Charon glanced over at the raiders corpse.

She looked down at the can she held, noticing a few streaks of drying blood down the sides of the label.

Joanna swallowed hard, forcing herself to fight off the urge to heave up the cool water that now pooled heavy in her stomach. She let herself take a small break to down the rest of the can, letting it drop to the ground once emptied.

"That went well, all things considered..."she smiled meekly at Charon.

"Mask works better when you keep it on," he grunted kicking the empty can down the steps behind them.

"Should I just leave it on then?"

"No," Charon slung his shotgun onto his back, "this is the only circumstance where looking like a ghoul won't get you killed. I would prefer you not wear the thing unless absolutely necessary."

Charon looked at her a moment longer before adding, "Don't talk about it either, makes you sound crazy. That won't do you any favors out here."

Joanna couldn't help but smile wide.

"I was right wasn't I?" she teased.

Charon said nothing, allowing his silence to answer for him. His lack of response only made her titter quietly as they stepped over the corpses and up into the back of the GNR plaza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we can get more into exploring these two properly. One thing I do want to mention is the quest line for Project Purity. I will not be setting our characters down that path just to relive the main storyline over. There is some major deviation coming that will try and separate that out more. Some overarching plot will occur but this is still first and foremost centered around the building of the relationship between the Lone Wanderer and Charon. 
> 
> Also, I really want to get into more with Megaton and Underworld specifically. So that is something to look forward to. :)


	10. Three Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small talk with Three Dog.

The two made their way uninterrupted to the front doors at GNR. Grimacing, Charon scanned over the area, spotting Brotherhood soldiers circling around the perimeter. There were even more metal plated assholes here than in the mall. He kept his eyes glued to Joanna and checked his limp, he did not want to give the Brotherhood any reason to give them trouble.

Charon continued to press on, trying his best to ignore his leg and the looks from the soldiers sizing him up. Everything with the Brotherhood always seemed to be a dick measuring contest. Charon supposed anything bigger than them was bound to earn their ire. Even if he had smooth skin he figured his size alone would give him trouble with them, being a ghoul was just a better excuse to give him shit.

It was hard to keep pace with his employer as she strode up to press the buzzer by the door. Her confidence now was slightly amusing to watch. Just minutes ago he had witnessed her shaking like a leaf, puking her brains out on the pavement. On the outside she looked cool and collected but he could still smell the fear off her.

One soldier blocked their way on the stairs leading up to Three Dog's door. The man looked at Charon with a sneer.

"We don't usually allow ghouls in here. Bad enough we've been balls deep in mutties lately." He pointed a finger accusingly at him. "You don't go spreading your rot on Three Dog, ya' hear?"

The man thumbed his nose, moving to let the pair pass.

Joanna looked back at Charon.

"People seem to really like you," she said smiling as they continued up the stairs.

He sighed.

\------

Even through the door Joanna could hear Three Dog's voice loudly carrying out his show with enthusiasm.

She and her companion made their way up and saw the disk jockey sitting in his chair reading off a list of some slaver activity up by Paradise Falls.

"And that's it for our special news bulletin, children. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming. Sit back, relax, and enjoy." Three Dog clicked his little on air button off and shuffled his papers in front of himself.

The seated man swiveled around in his chair and motioned the two forward to sit across from him.

"Well I'll be damned. If it isn't my wasteland hero and-" He eyed Charon from under his darkened lenses, giving a long whistle. "Fee-fi-fo-fum. What irradiated beanstalk did you take a fall from my man?"

"This is Charon. He helped me get your signal back," Joanna said ignoring the low growl Charon was making beside her as they sat down in the vacant chairs.

"Guess I owe you both a debt of gratitude. Thanks for helping fight the Good Fight." Three Dog took out a few Nuka Colas from under his desk and offered one out to each of them. Joanna took hers, thanking him, but Charon didn't budge.

"They're a bit on the warm side but hey, beats drinking the sludge from the plumbing." Three Dog placed Charon's beverage on his desk. He reached over to flick a small fan on, blowing some of his papers away and onto the floor. Three Dog cursed as he fumbled to put a weight on the remaining stack to keep them from joining the others.

Joanna nudged at Charon's leg with her own causing Charon to hiss. Clearing her throat, she nodded her head at the bottle on the desk. Charon still remained unmoving.

"Take the drink Charon," she whispered to him as Three Dog's attention temporarily shifted as he collected and sorted his toppled paperwork.

Charon grabbed the Nuka bottle in hand but only to hold it there unopened.

Three Dog righted himself in his chair once more and smiled at them. "So Charon, you went out of your way to help my vault friend here? You a big fan of the show?" The man took a sip from his own Nuka Cola.

"Not really." He responded dryly.

Mortified, Joanna felt her face flush and gave Charon's boot a small kick. Another small hiss escaped the ghoul.

Three Dog choked on his drink, trying to catch his laughter. "Honesty. Now there's something rare. Hehe." Joanna watched as the man swiveled again in his chair, grabbing a pen from another nearby desk. "So you aren't a fan but you still decided to help the cause?"

Charon hummed a little but otherwise remained silent, still clutching his full bottle of cola in his hands.

"Ghoul of few words? I can dig it." Joanna saw him scribbling something on his sheets of notes while he spoke. "People talk too much anyway, not enough cats listen. But I'm gonna' change all that now that my beautiful signal is back on, stronger than ever. All thanks to you two."

"You're welcome, it was our pleasure." She looked over at Charon. The ghouls face looked pained, his hand gripped at his bottle so hard she was afraid it might break under the pressure. Joanna was unsure of what to do or why he was acting in such a way, but she didn't want to alert Three Dog to whatever his problem was.

"Don't you have a show to run? We aren't interrupting are we?" she inquired.

"Nah baby. Shows all canned anyway. But you can bet your last cap it's still fresher than cram." He laughed while standing up from his seat and walked over to one of the machines that lined the walls of the room. "Speaking of, I gotta flip side A over to side B so to speak. Hold up a minute."

Joanna turned on her chair and leaned over to Charon, placing a concerned hand hesitantly on his knee. "What's wrong?"

Charon shook his head and said nothing.

She looked down at the Nuka Cola still in his grip.

"Just drink it," she whispered to him while Three Dog was still preoccupied.

Charon's brow furrowed as he lifted the drink to his mouth, beginning to chug it down quickly. Three Dog turned to see the ghoul finishing the last bit before placing the empty bottle back on the desk abruptly.

"You want another one, big guy?" Three Dog offered, handing out another full bottle.

Charon looked at Joanna, as if waiting for a response. She was unsure of what kind of answer he was looking for so she hoped nodding her head would suffice.

Charon sighed, snatching the second bottle from Three Dog and downing it just as quickly. Joanna noticed that his agitation only seemed to be growing. He kept the empty bottle clutched in his hand, his other began gripping at his thigh.

"Thirsty work out there, huh? You want another or something with more kick? Got some beer around here, whiskey too." Three Dog offered, still smiling wide at the ghoul.

Charon once again looked at Joanna.

"Do you want more Charon?" she questioned, unsure of what to do for him.

Charon looked away a moment before shaking his head.

"If you change your mind don't be shy. Mi casa es su casa and all that." The man sat back down swiveling in his chair.

"I'm real glad that your station is back up now but-" Joanna began unsure of how to ask for what she came for.

"You wanna get what you're owed. I haven't forgotten," he said. "James, your old man, he said something about seeing a Dr. Li down in Rivet City. Let me see that clunky old vault watch of yours and I'll show you where."

Three Dog pinpointed out Rivet City, telling her a bit about the motionless little sanctuary that was set up in the water. The way he described it made it sound like a small urban paradise in the hellhole of DC. On her Pipboy, he also marked a weapons cache in thanks for her help.

"And what about you? Charon, right?" Three Dog tapped his pen idly on his desk.

"What about me?"

"Well seeing as you are to partly thank for getting my tunes back on air, seems only fair you get something too. So what can this humble old disk jockey do for you? Bear in mind, I'm no magician or wealthy brahmin baron over here."

"Supplies." he answered quickly.

"Practical. I like it. You two cats are going to Rivet City, it ain't a long trip but it ain't necessarily a safe one either. Food, water, chems, just go ahead and take it. Brotherhood keeps me in good supply anyway, not like I need it right now," he said spinning in his chair once more. "I would have offered you that stuff anyway. Now come on, there's gotta be something I could give you. What is it you want? What do you need?"

There was a moment of silence as Joanna watched Charon stiffen in his seat.

"I need to take a piss."

\------

Charon held his face against the metal stall door in the bathroom. It felt cool against the rotting flesh of his cheek. He sat on the lid of the toilet, letting his weight lean heavily onto the wall. His breath panted out in short puffs, creating a small fog on the sheen of the doorframe with each deep huff.

He began to unbuckle his belt with a groan, shifting his hips up slightly to allow his pants to roll to his knees. Charon grit his teeth as he looked down at his newly exposed half.

Red welted looking skin ran taught across his abdomen. The bits of skin he had remaining were so thin he could make out veins like roadmaps spanning across him, all overlapping and collecting at tendons that protruded more downwards as they neared the root of him.

He looked as if he had been burned, scorched like raw meat under an intense flame, left dryly flaking in some places and tender in others. Parts where his skin completely faded away were covered with a thin amount of clear film, like a sensitive second skin of sorts. In these places, he would ooze occasionally if hot or collect a buildup over time which flies tended to be fond of. This is also where his muscles could be seen squirming and bulging with every little sneeze, cough, or twitch of his dick.

He didn't like looking at himself unless he had to. But right now, he had to.

The pain in his leg was becoming horribly uncomfortable. Joanna's stupid prodding hadn't helped either.

He looked down, noticing a part of his groin that seemed to protrude out more than normal. A wince escaped his teeth as he pressed into the tender lump forming there. His hand moved down to push against his upper thigh, and again he struggled to bite back his discomfort.

With a deep sigh, he brought out a stimpack from his pocket, injecting it into his leg.

It felt much better but he feared one wouldn't be enough. Charon brought out another stimpack, his last one, and hesitated before administering the chem.

Stimpacks weren't cheap and he didn't want to waste the ones he had saved up from his time at the Ninth Circle. The small stinging pressure from his hip jolted him back to reality. He wasn't able to afford hoarding onto stimpacks right now, what with being in the ruins of the Capital Wasteland with an incompetent new owner.

He let the needle sink into his thigh and instantly breathed a sigh of relief. The pain was completely gone but the swelling didn't seem to go away.

Charon shrugged, shimmying his pants back up to his waist. Ghouls always had a few lumps, bumps, and missing parts. This was just normal ghoul stuff.

He exited the restroom feeling at ease once more.

\------

Charon walked back to find Three Dog busily scribbling away at his desk. The chair Joanna had occupied was now vacant.

He saw a couch lined up against an opposite wall with Joanna laid sprawled out over the cushions. She was resting deeply, a look of peace spread over her features as she napped.

Three Dog looked up at Charon smiling from behind his desk.

"You're looking relieved." He chuckled quietly, as not to disturb the vault dweller on the couch across the room.

Charon only hummed a bit before seating himself again.

"Look, I'm glad I can supply a clean pot to piss in but there's gotta be something else you want." Three Dog said standing up from his seat. He came over to the front of his desk to sit on the edge near Charon.

"I don't want anything from you but you owe that girl a hell of a lot more than what you're giving her." Charon said jerking his thumb over to the sleeping Joanna.

Three Dog's face fell, no longer sporting a bright smile.

"I did what I had to. It's not like I wanted to send her out there."

"But you did anyway," Charon spat.

"You got to understand. I'm the voice of the people and the people need a voice. I couldn't take the risk."

"You're not just a voice. You got hands. Hands steadier than hers holding a gun I bet."

Three Dog looked away from him over to the couch. He adjusted his glasses on his face, nodding his head.

"You're right. You're right, damn it." The shame on his face lingered as he reached into his pocket. "I ain't much of a fighter, never have been. Just a talker, a big talker." He laughed a little but remained sullen.

He pulled a folded knife from his pocket and flipped it open. The blade caught the light and glittered blindingly bright in his hands.

"You know my old man gave me this thing way back in the day. Crazy, is what I thought when he handed it to me." Charon listened as Three Dog began pacing the room, knife in hand.

"I was a shrimpy thing, never did a lick of nothin'. I read books you know?" He turned the blade around in his hand. "Read somewhere that the pen was mightier than the sword." He sighed fidgeting with the blades tip.

"But my old man, he gave me this, told me to use it whenever that pen ran out of ink."

He flipped the blade back closed, handing it out to Charon.

"My ink ain't drying out anytime soon. You take it."

Charon took the folded blade, feeling the weight of the knife in his hands. It had a fair bit of heft to it for such a small thing, but he couldn't see much practical use for it.

"The hell am I supposed to do with this toothpick?" Charon asked feeling odd about accepting the sentimental pocket weapon.

Three Dog just laughed. "Kill a deathclaw with it of course. Right in the eye. Give me something to report on that'll really get the wastelanders to shit a brick." He clapped Charon on the shoulder. "It's more of a symbolic gesture I guess. I'm getting old n' sappy. Plus, I don't got much else that you'd want."

Charon was about to shove the useless trinket back into his hand but he paused hearing a yawn from behind.

Joanna was up and stretching lazily on the couch.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I guess the walk tired me out more than I thought," she said yawning once more into her hand.

"Sleep as long as you like. My couch has room to accommodate any weary lady, especially the pretty young ones." Three Dog winked at her, easily dawning his radio persona again.

"We really need to be going," she said walking up to Charon.

Charon nodded, pocketing the knife. He walked around the room grabbing supplies for their trip, anything that was in sight and would provide useful.

"Aww, come on now. Stay for just a bit longer. I wanna hear all about this dynamic duo thing you two got goin' on." Three Dog pleaded.

Joanna laughed. "I don't know about that. But I guess I could tell you a little bit about our daring adventure so far...even if Charon is the only daring one."

Charon sighed, still filling his own bag as he listened to Joanna regale Three Dog with yesterday's events. It already felt so much longer to him and he was already bored by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wanted to push to finish this chapter so I probably stayed up way later than I should have. Oh well. Off to briefly visit Rivet City now. Obviously lots of noncanon things in this chapter.


	11. Cramping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna feels awful. Period.

Back into the tunnels, Joanna donned her faux feral facade once more. Charon cringed at the sight but felt better being away from the Brotherhood and better still that they had more supplies than before. He was hoping that the trip would be just as quiet as when they came up from Underworld, but Joanna seemed to be warming up to him, a fact that made him cringe more than her ugly mask.

"So what did you think about him?" he could hear her muffled voice questioning.

"About who?"

"You know who," she huffed. "Three Dog."

Charon shrugged, but that didn't seem to satisfy her.

"Come on. I thought you would provide me conversation when I wished it. I want to know what you thought of him."

He sighed, eerily reminded of his last owner pressing for his thoughts in a similar manner. This girl was already reminding him of Ahzrukhal in some of the worst of ways.

"I didn't think much of him."

"Come ooooon Charon," she whined.

Once again the ghoul sighed deeply, scratching at his tingling skin. Damn contract.

"His persona keeps him safe. He uses his natural charisma as a shield so he doesn't have to use a weapon. The more people like him, the more people want to see him safe - to keep him safe. He risked your life despite having his own to give to his damn cause."

Joanna shook her head. "He couldn't go on his own. He's the only voice for the people out here. I'm sure there would be all sorts of raiders gunning for him."

Charon snorted. "Not likely. The common phrase strongly advises against shooting the messenger. That is what he has made himself. The everyman's messenger...and now the Brotherhood's as well. Anyone that isn't a mindless feral or super mutant wouldn't mess with him. Yet he sent you. Not even one of his Brotherhood buddies." He looked over at her appraisingly. "And they have armor. Lots of it."

"So you don't like him?" She snapped. He wasn't sure why she was becoming so cross.

"I said no such thing. The only thing I do not like about him is that he has taken you for a ride."

"He gave me what we agreed on: information on my father. It's not like I had much choice." Her voice started to raise, carrying further into the tunnels. He hoped there weren't raiders or super mutants within earshot.

"I could have told you to go to Rivet City. Any idiot could have told you to go to Rivet City. There's not many towns in the entirety of DC, and Rivet City is by far the biggest. It's unlikely that he hasn't been there at least once."

Joanna stopped in her tracks. Her mask still made her facial expressions indistinguishable but he could hear a small choked noise escape through the thick material.

"...do you think he lied to me?" Joanna's voice broke out in a small wavering tone. He figured she must be on the cusp of crying.

God, Charon thought, her mood swings were worse than Ahzrukhal's.

"Possibly." He didn't want to try to cheer her up, but he also didn't want her falling apart and crying in the tunnels. Even with her feral mask he feared she would leave them vulnerable.

"Look, despite what he told you, going to Rivet City is your best shot at information on missing persons. And I'm your best shot at getting you to your father alive, so long as that is your wish."

"I wish none of this ever happened." Joanna said softly.

"That is not within my capabilities, mistress."

Charon thought that perhaps this would be the end to her line of dialogue for the day, but unfortunately he wasn't lucky enough for that to be the case.

Joanna spent a great deal of time lamenting the fact that he hadn't picked up anything sweet for her to eat at GNR when he filled their bags with supplies. Despite her just throwing up a whole box of Fancy Lads, she continued prattling on about wanting to eat more of them. Charon couldn't remember anyone talking so much about one asinine subject for so long in his life. He even rechecked the bags to see if he had maybe picked up some kind of food she could shove in her mouth, if only to have her stop talking about cake for a minute.

Her obsession only began diverging into long rambling tangents. Mostly about vault life, which somehow ended up sidetracking her back to the topic of cake and sweet rolls. Her memories began pouring out of her, like they had been bottled up for so long they had just overflowed as soon as she released one. There were tears and laughter, moments where she choked on her words describing her father, and moments where she became totally incoherent.

Even though he didn't have much of them left, Charon felt like his ears were bleeding. He almost missed the pain in his leg at this point. It would be a welcome distraction to the girl baring her soul to him as if he were an audio diary. At least one thing would always be his: his ability to care. The contract held no sway over that particular power. That was one thing that was his and his alone, he wasn't about to waste any amount of it on cake and memories of shitty fathers.

Ferals came and went as they continued walking. Charon tried to remain as alert as he could until he noticed Joanna's pace slowing.

"Something wrong?" He asked, almost fearing another long winded rollercoaster of emotion to come pouring out of her.

She pressed on her stomach slightly but shook her head.

They had plenty now for her to eat as they travelled, even some things to drink. There was no real reason to rush to get to their destination so he figured a short break would do them good.

Joanna decided to sit down with her back against the wall. Her masked head was propped up on her knees that folded into her chest. She sat there, hugging herself, until Charon could see her body visibly relax. Once again, she had fallen asleep leaving Charon to watch out into the darkness.

As she slept, Charon noticed something odd. He sniffed at the stale air of the subway. The scent of moist decay was still heavy in the dreary old tunnels but something new caught his attention. There was a fragrance he couldn't place and just scarcely detected tickling at his nasal cavity.

The scent in the air was light, nearly imperceptible, but he felt like he could almost taste it. There was a sweetness to it that made his mouth water around the metallic bite that laced the tip of his tongue.

He saw nothing around himself that seemed out of place so he tried to ignore the phantom aroma that nagged at his senses.

As time drew on, the feint ghost of perfume drove him mad while the taste started to become a bit stronger. Something began gnawing at the back of Charon's mind, some deep impulse that ignited an insistent craving inside himself. It felt like the hunger pangs he would get on occasion when Ahzrukhal and Snowflake hit the chems particularly hard around him, filling the haze in the bar with weak lingering drugs. The same burning itch that set his skin aflame when given orders, began prickling at his nerves.

Charon paced slowly around trying to place what was giving off the aroma but saw nothing in either direction in the tunnels.

He looked back down to Joanna, closing in on her seated form, instantly realizing the problem.

\-----

Joanna woke feeling a hand brushing her shoulder.

"Mistress, wake up. We need to move."

She stretched feeling her back ache from holding her position for so long. Standing on numb feet was difficult, Charon had to offer a hand to support her weight.

Even if half of her was numb, she could still feel her cramps punching her in the middle with enough force to make her double over. Shit, she thought, how the hell did she not realize sooner?

Joanna could feel the familiar sensation of her period upon her. It had never been an easy thing for her, out here it seemed worse than ever coupled with the intense stress she had already endured.

This was a problem she knew would come for her soon enough, but with Charon here now, it complicated matters further. What was she supposed to do? She hadn't even thought about finding a way to relieve herself in the presence of her new companion.

Her dilemma boiled over into a heated debate in her mind. Should she just walk it off and free bleed or should she try and awkwardly excuse herself to politely go behind the nearest train to squat? And how does one politely squat? This wasn't exactly something covered while living in the vault.

 Another cramp twisted like a dull knife, making her decision for her. Awkwardness it would have to be.

"I need you to wait here Charon. Just stand here for a minute."

In the dim light, Joanna saw him shake his head.

"Mistress, we really need to go now."

She groaned as the incorporeal blade pushed harder into her knotting stomach.

"No, I need to go now." She felt her face flushing hard under her mask. "Just keep watch from here. I'll only be a second."

Charon mumbled something she couldn't hear but he seemed to comply with her request as he made no motion to follow her behind one of the nearby toppled train cars.

She put her pack down, rummaging through for strips of fabric she had scavenged and cleaned to use as extra gauze. Clean bandages weren't exactly something she was able to buy a significant amount of so her repurposed upholstery scraps would have to do.

Joanna bit her lip as she pulled her pants down to her knees.

Dark blood had already set into her underwear, uncomfortably moistening the delicate material.

"Shit." She whispered as she tried removing the large slug of clotted blood from her panties. Joanna dabbed at the stain it left behind, cursing at the futility of her actions. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes as she rubbed harder, only causing the mark to spread.

"Fuck." Her lips trembled along with her fingers, fumbling with the now soiled cloth in her hands.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Her quiet wails became a chant as she worked. The blood smeared, getting under her fingernails, as she continued dry scrubbing, sobbing as she did.

"God." She choked pitifully, letting her breath out in a ragged exhale. Her head pressed into her knees as she wept.

She wasn't prepared for this. For any of this.

Joanna never thought her father would just disappear from the vault, abandoning her. She never thought she would be starving in a gutter or dying of thirst. She never thought she would be bare assed squatting in a tunnel, shoving old pieces of some long dead Pre-War women's curtains into her pants.

But here she was. Doing just that.

She took her mask off, allowing herself a moment to breathe unhindered. Looking down, tears fell from her cheeks to land at her feet. Blood dripped from her, making small spots of spatter beneath her on the concrete ledge of the subway.

Her hand palmed through sweaty locks of hair as her legs trembled.

She wanted to die.

\-------

"Shit." Charon whispered under his breath as he waited for his employer to come back into view.

This was not a good situation to be in. His eyes darted around, looking for any small signs of movement down the tracks. He couldn't smell any nearby ferals but he could smell the same sweet laced fragrance in the air. How the hell had he not thought of this situation before?

She was menstruating. He knew it. He could smell it. And what was worse, it made him hungry.

Charon felt a sickening wash of guilt and embarrassment overwhelm him. What kind of damn person notices that? And what kind of sick monster finds that appealing?

Apparently him, a dirty crotch sniffing zombie.

It had been so long since he had human company for any length of time, he had forgotten this sometimes occurred. When they're sick, or wounded, they smelled a little different. Women also smelled differently at certain times in their cycle. How could it take him so long to notice?

Normally his sense of smell was absolute garbage. He thought of it being comparable to the touch of a gloved hand. Sensations were there but always dulled, missing something. But when it came to things like this, his sense of smell was something else entirely. Years back, when he had traveled the wastes with other owners, he relied heavily on his nose. Sometimes he could smell enemies from farther distances than his eyes would allow, it proved a useful trick at the time.

It was hard to explain how he knew when humans were healthy or infected, but somehow he felt it, could almost taste it on them. Just another odd quirk of being a ghoul.

A sick fucking quirk.

Charon was torn. If he could smell Joanna's change, the ferals must be able to as well. They needed to clear out of the tunnels fast. There was no questioning they would be drawn to her, he didn't want to test just how much. Both of them were in no position to be bottlenecked in the subway by a group of hungry corpses. Joanna's mask gamble was already something he didn't fully support.

The girl still hadn't come back into his view, causing him to worry further.

How was he supposed to tell her they needed to find a different route without alerting her to the cause? Sure, he could be blunt and tell her he smelled her menses, but that sounded horrible. She would likely be embarrassed and he didn't have much of a way to reassure her.

"I can smell you but don't worry, it's not bad" sounded terrible even in his head. Charon never minded being blunt about things, but he at least wanted to be tactful about it. If he was being honest with himself, part of him just wanted to avoid asking so he didn't have to admit he noticed things like that. He really didn't want to even acknowledge the fact that his sudden hunger was tied to it as well.

The ghoul's head hung low. How do you admit to someone you barely know that you're just as much of a monster as you look?

His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl some way in the distance behind them. Charon gripped his shotgun firmly. This was no time to be acting like a bashful fool. He wasn't about to let the two of them die over such a stupid thing. The large ghoul abandoned his post, striding towards the upturned train the young girl had ducked behind.

\-----

Joanna tried her best to compose herself before pulling her mask back on. She zipped up her pants feeling the uncomfortable wad of material wedged there.

She turned to leave her puddle of shame behind her on the tracks, feeling disgusted with herself. As soon as she turned, she found herself plowing into Charon's chest.

"Charon!" she yelled in surprise. "What the fuck?!"

Joanna felt her heart beating against her ribs at the fright he put into her. "You scared the living hell out of me!"

"We need to go now." Charon said ignoring her obvious distress.

"I told you to wait! You can't just come over here and-" Joanna cut off as Charon grabbed at her wrist, tugging her along. "Just wait a damn minute Charon!" She yelled at him, trying to pry her forearm free from his grasp.

"We need to find an exit now." His grip tightened as he pulled her.

Charon's hand felt like a vice, stronger than the tongue of the centaur that had pulled her screaming across the floor of the museum not long ago.

"Stop! That's an order!"

Charon immediately paused, going completely still. His grip had not loosened from her arm but he was no longer dragging her along.

"What the hell is going on? What do you think you're doing?" She said, again trying fruitlessly to screw her arm free of the ghouls hold.

Suddenly she heard a feral growling, echoing off the walls of the subway, followed by more growls on top of that.

Charon's hand squeezed at her arm.

"Run." He managed to say before the subway was drowned in the sound of raspy wails and frantic howling.

She didn't know how many ferals were behind them as they continued to run down the tracks, but she didn't dare to look back.

Joanna had no idea where the next exit was located, they were running blind down the subway as fast as her legs allowed her to go. Charon kept pace with her, looking as if he had to slow down to let her catch up to his long strides. Her breathing was restricted by the mask she wore so she tore it off as they went, popping a few of the stitches from the piece in her haste.

The howling screams were getting closer.

Joanna's foot caught on a piece of exposed rebar, sending her falling into the rubble. Her lip split as her face kissed the ground.

\------

Damn contract, damn ferals, and damn Joanna.

Charon could make out a handful of stringy mutants running close behind them, all chasing after the vault girl's heavy trail of pheromones.

The large ghoul watched his employer face plant after removing her mask, head only inches away from a sharp spike of metal jutting from the ground.

"Shit." He said bending down at her side, scooping her up, and throwing her onto his back.

Joanna, plus her full backpack, weighed down on him, but he knew he would be able to run faster than her despite his current handicap.

Charon could hear her yelps of protest but ignored them. No order was going to take precedence over getting them to safety.

"Just shut up!" He grit out through his teeth as he continued to run for the both of them.

The tunnel ended, leading out to large platforms and more trains. He leapt up to the flat expanses of concrete and followed along the edge until he found an area to exit. Feral calls growled from the platform behind, joining with the ones from earlier.

Joanna still remained slung over his shoulder, kicking. They reached the exit gate of the subway only to find it chained up. Charon huffed, pointed his shotgun at the padlock, and blew it off in a single shot. He kicked the gates open only to find they had come up on the southern side of the mall, not far from Underworld.

Finally, a bit of luck.

Charon continued to jog with the girl over his shoulder up the stairs when suddenly he felt a twinge of pain spike through his hip.

"God damn it." He angrily hissed through his teeth as he struggled with their combined weight. His leg had begun to hurt him once more at the worst of times, threatening to collapse underneath him.

Charon could still hear the ferals behind him so he forced himself onward.

As he ran into the clearing of the mall, he could see Brotherhood soldiers, their armor glistening in the moonlight. He ran towards them at full speed, dropping the shotgun from his hand to support Joanna better as she squirmed.

"Ferals!" He managed to yell, hoping he would catch their attention.

A barrage of energy blasts sounded around him, lighting the night with green bursts of neon color. He could hear the howls of ferals behind him being struck by the bolts of exploding lasers. The smell of charred rotting flesh filled his nose.

Charon got as close as he dared to the Brotherhood soldiers before slowing down to a trot. His knee gave out from underneath him as he couldn't bare Joanna's weight any longer. The ghoul allowed the woman down from his shoulder as he panted hard trying to catch his breath.

He raised his hands in the air as he kneeled by his employer who looked dazed and confused as she sat sprawled on the ground.

The soldiers fire had stopped and he couldn't hear any more noises from behind himself.

Charon breathed a sigh of relief.

As the soldiers neared, another energy shot burst forth. He saw Joanna's face agape, her eyes wide and soft, lit by the feint green glow that barreled towards them. The light blinded Charon, striking his chest and shoulder with a searing heat that sent him toppling backwards.

He groaned heavily, smoke rising up into the cold sky from where the shot had struck him. On his back, he saw a few stars through the dirty air and the moon, round and full in the night. The moon was soon replaced by the circular light of a knight's helmet, until both were blotted out by a power armored foot above his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scenario I always wonder about personally while I play female characters in video games. Something that I tend not to see discussed by many people even in survival kind of games. That must really suck for some of these women. It's going to especially suck for Joanna who has spent nearly her whole life in a sheltered vault environment. 
> 
> More about Charon's weird ghoul traits will come up soon too.


	12. Doctor's Recommendation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Joanna get back to Underworld looking much worse than when they left. It's off to the Chop Shop for Charon.

Joanna could hardly believe what just happened. One minute everything seemed to be going fine and then, all of a sudden, everything had crashed and burned before her eyes. Her stomach was sore from being bounced around on Charon's shoulder for so long before he had managed to put her down.

She had seen the ferals mowed down in a volley of energy blasts behind Charon as he ran and had seen the approaching Brotherhood figures purposefully shoot her savior right next to her. Smoke billowed up from the searing wound left by the blast to his shoulder. A soldier stood near the laying ghoul's head, foot perched above, ready to grind his face down into the dirt.

Joanna flung herself to clutch at the power armored leg of the soldier.

"Don't! Please!" She pleaded to the helmeted figure.

A scratchy voice box clicked to life, allowing her to hear the Brotherhood knight address her.

"This is a ghoul, civilian. Back away." The foot remained perched above Charon who sat still underneath the armored man.

"He's mine! Get off him!" She demanded, now trying to scramble to her feet.

"Yours? This one of those slave ghouls?" The voice grated out over the helmet speaker.

"Yes. Yes, he is mine." She knew it wasn't the best term for him, but if she could use his contract as leverage to keep him from being killed for simply existing, then she was going to use it. "I got his contract here and everything."

Thankfully, the soldier removed his boot from Charon's face.

"If that's the case, keep his collar on." The soldier backed away calling out to his fellow members on his short range radio. "Perimeter clear on this side. Just a bunch of rot bags. South side metro needs securing, send a team down to clear it out again."

Joanna went to Charon's side but hesitated to touch him. His armor had a patch seared straight through to his skin which started to blister already.

"Are you okay?" She asked, unsure what she should do for him. Her father would be so disappointed with her if he only knew how clueless she was in this kind of situation.

"Just peachy." Charon grunted as he began to slowly move to sit up.

"Damn," he said while running a finger over the seared edges of his armor. He looked over to Joanna, staring at her sternly. "You are injured." He touched the air just above the space of her upper lip. She could feel the sting of the cut as she pursed her mouth.

"Barely, thanks to you." She smiled, splitting the cut open a little more. "Did you get any stimpacks from Three Dog?"

Charon nodded. "Yeah. Don't bother though." He let out a sharp hiss as he rose to his feet. "We aren't far off from Underworld. We get there and the doc will patch me up. Armor needs patching too."

"A stim would at least make you feel better." She offered.

He shook his head. "Don't be wasteful. I can make it."

She followed close behind him, watching his ungraceful limp down the road towards the Museum of History. There were more Brotherhood members stationed here than before. Joanna just felt lucky the super mutants hadn't yet reclaimed this part of the territory.

"Charon?"

The ghoul sighed. "Yes mistress?"

"Why did the ferals attack?" She could feel her cramping stomach twisting, mocking her for asking.

His face twisted up a little before answering. "Because they can smell that you're a woman. A healthy young one. They couldn't before, or at least, not well." Charon sighed as he continued to lean his weight off to one side. "We won't be able to travel in the tunnels with your...condition. Rivet City will have to wait. Or we will need a new route."

Joanna felt her heart sink into her stomach. So it was her fault they were overwhelmed by a horde. She never thought to guess something like that would trigger a frenzy. If she were alone in the same situation she would have died right on the tracks like she had wanted. Charon was to thank for her being alive, and here she was, allowing him to limp all the way back to Underworld after saving her pathetic ass again.

She felt so stupid.

"Rivet City can wait. You need to be fixed up. Did you hurt your leg running?"

Charon only shrugged.

\------

The walk to Underworld wasn't pleasant but tolerable enough on his leg. The pain of the pressure had returned with a vengeance, throbbing and pricking his skin like tiny needles lodged into his thigh.

Joanna was alright, besides her busted lip, and even that was a fairly small injury most likely not needing much attention at all. Just a lot of blood from a small cut. He cursed in his mind at the Brotherhood bastard that shot him. Unarmed and kneeling in the dirt wasn't enough to separate him from the ferals. He was grateful Joanna had spoken up to keep his head from getting crushed like a can of cram, even if she had implied he was nothing but a slave to her. He didn't like it, but he wasn't about to argue the particulars of his indentured servitude given the circumstance.

Even though he was hurting, he could feel something in him excited by the change of pace, although he didn't want to admit it. The adrenaline must be getting to his head.

Once they were back in Underworld, it seemed Joanna became even more popular than before. Carol immediately toted her off, fussing over her lip all the while. Charon was allowed to be on his own to seek treatment from the resident ghoul doctor at the Chop Shop. He was glad Joanna hadn't insisted on coming with him. Charon already hated going for medical treatment, he didn't need her in the room adding to his suffering.

Walking in to the Chop Shop, Charon saw Doctor Barrows seated and scribbling away on an old clipboard. Nurse Graves sat puffing away at a cigarette, scrolling through the clinics computer terminal in the corner. Barrows peeked up from his notes to look the tall ghoul over.

"Got an appointment Charon?" Barrows said tapping away at the clipboard on his lap. "Don't see your name on the list."

"Shut up and fix me asshole." Charon grunted as he sat himself down on a nearby cot.

"Who broke your funny bone? Jackass." Barrows rolled himself away to the counter, picking up some old gloves. "Nurse Graves, help Charon out of his armor will ya?"

Nurse Graves took a long drag off her cigarette, flicking the ash off onto the floor.

"My pleasure." The ghoulette smirked at him. "Someone did a number on you this time. That girl you ran off with worth the trouble?"

Charon waved the nurse off. "I can do it myself. Get out of here."

Nurse Graves looked back at Doctor Barrows with a frown.

"Go on Nurse Graves. You know how Charon gets. Just take a break at Carol's or something. See if that smoothskin of his would donate a sample."

The ghoulette shrugged, extinguishing her smoke out onto the desk before she left the two alone.

Charon struggled out of his armor while Barrows waited patiently for him to finish.

"You know I really wish you wouldn't call my nurse off. I have things to be doing other than cleaning and dressing superficial wounds like this." The doctor tutted working on his shoulder. "Brotherhood right? Damn energy weapons. Scorch your skin right to the bone. Looks like your armor took the brunt of it though."

"Hurt my leg too."

The doctor looked down. "Pants off then. Let's take a look."

Charon hesitated, not really wanting to fully undress.

Doctor Barrows sighed heavily. "Charon, come on. I've met ghoulettes less bashful than you."

"I'm **not** bashful."

Barrows turned his back to Charon, arms up in mock surrender. "Just tell me when to turn around."

Charon grudgingly pulled his pants off, pushing them into the heap where his clothes lay before allowing the doctor to turn back.

Doctor Barrows inspected the swelling near his groin and tender muscles. Charon did his best to give him as curt of a story as he could muster about the events and situation surrounding the injury.

"Well...I'm guessing you likely have a fracture but I'll need an X-Ray first. The swelling is concerning. I want to make sure it's not an infection but I feel like it's probably a blood clot or pressure from the trauma you received landing on your leg like that. Should have came here instead of stimpacking yourself and crossing your fingers."

"Stimpacks tend to work just fine."

Barrows rolled his eyes. "Stimpacks aren't magic Charon. And ghouls like us tend to be resistant to most chems. Plus, the first stim you gave yourself was pushed through your dirty pants and into your leg. Are you just trying to give yourself a damn infection? Even if the bone knit back properly you could have done more harm than good, blindly sticking yourself with dirty needles."

"Can you fix it?"

Barrows nodded, giving him a small dose of med-x for the time being.

Charon allowed Barrows to get him X-Rayed and draw samples of blood. The doctor performed a few other tests on him, giving him a thorough once over to try and seek out any more underlying problems that Charon might be hiding.

It took awhile before anything conclusive was drawn out. Charon had indeed fractured his hip on the landing, the injury compartmentalizing in his upper thigh and groin. Apparently, Barrows was more concerned over some other issue with the skin of his leg, telling him he was at risk to develop a serious infection.

"We'll have to keep you here for some rest and treatment. You're lucky you weren't out there like this for long."

"How long will it take?" Charon asked becoming agitated with the amount of time he had already spent in the clinic.

Barrows shrugged. "It takes as long as it takes." The doctor began tapping on his clipboard again. "You know, I'm going to give you some advice. You're an old ghoul Charon, you got to take care of yourself. No one else will." He stretched in his seat regarding Charon with curiosity. "You know you're in pretty good shape despite spending so much time in the Ninth Circle. Would have thought you'd atrophy by now in that corner. Still, you're not in as good of shape as you could be."

Charon snorted. "How in shape can a zombie get?"

"You'd be surprised." Doctor Barrows seemed to ponder something over in his mind for a moment before looking back to Charon.

"How often do you masturbate?"

Charon stared dumbfounded at the doctor, not quite believing he heard correctly at first.

"The fuck kind of question is that?" Charon asked, temper beginning to flare.

"One that shouldn't make you angry, certainly." Barrows tapped at his clipboard again. "Let me rephrase for you then. Can you become erect?"

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"Do you know if you can or not?" Barrows pressed further.

Charon looked at the wall of the room, shrugging his shoulders. In truth, he wasn't actually sure. It's not like Ahzrukhal ever gave him the privacy or the time to do that sort of thing. And besides, it had been years since he actually found anything remotely arousing to himself. How could anything ever be arousing in a body like this?

"Thought so." Barrows got up and walked over to the windows of the room, drawing the curtains back. The window allowed a glimpse into an adjacent room where two glowing ferals shuffled back and forth. It wasn't the first time Charon had seen the pet ferals Barrows kept under observation, but it did make him wonder what his point was.

"That's Meat," he said pointing at one of the ferals in the room, "and that's Ethyl," pointing at the other.

"Meat is a male ghoul, Ethyl is a ghoulette. Notice anything missing on Meat?" Barrows said, brow raising on one side.

Charon looked away not wanting to admit he was starting to catch on to what the doctor was pointing out.

"Ferals often start losing extremities as they age. The first thing that tends to go missing are the reproductive organs, followed by fingers, toes, that sort of thing." Barrows began pacing the room.

"Patchwork tends to come to me often. He's nowhere near as old as you, but he has these circulation issues. Similar to Meat and Ethyl in there. You know he loses parts from time to time, nothing severe yet but..." he sighed, seating himself back down across from Charon, shaking his head. "Nurse Graves and I have been working to prevent any of our people from progressing to further stages of ghoulification and hopefully reverse the process altogether. So far that's all we have right now. Preventative treatments."

"You think I'm turning feral?" Charon inquired, feeling his blood run cold in his veins.

"No, no. Not at all." Barrows was quick to wave the question away. "But what I am saying is we should take steps in preventing that from becoming the case later on."

"What do I have to do?"

Barrows sighed, tapping again at his clipboard.

"Patchwork is a lush. Obviously. He doesn't take care of himself and doesn't care to start now. His body is very telling of that fact. But you," Barrows gestured at Charon's body, "you haven't riddled your body with chems and booze. Your still in better shape physically than anyone I've seen, got a lot of muscle for a ghoul and no joint pain. Your soft tissues are still holding up fairly well, all things considered."

"Great. So why do I need to do anything again?" Charon was beginning to lose his patience.

"Because you still aren't in as good of shape as you could be. You have a lot of concerns that others don't. Your sleep disorder being one, don't think I forgot. You need to keep active. Make sure you are eating, sleeping, and generally taking care of yourself.  Ghouls can survive off radiation alone but that doesn't mean you should. You want to be near human again? Act like it."

"So your advice is to eat and sleep? Groundbreaking." Charon felt his temper slipping more with each word.

Barrows shook his head. "My advice is to keep yourself active and healthy. I asked how often you masturbate because I think that would actually help you out a lot. Keep up that circulation. I know the old urban legend of 'if you don't use it, you lose it', but in the case of ghouls," he looked back out the window at the glowing ferals, "that is a distinct possibility."

"You're telling me my dicks going to fall off if I don't jack it? Are you god damn kidding me Barrows?" Charon was thoroughly annoyed by the old Pre-War quacks recommendation. "Why don't you tell Patchwork that? He's the one that apparently needs it, you fucking old nutcase."

"I'm only saying it could help. Is it really that horrible of an idea to try? For crying out loud Charon, I've sewed up bullet holes in you without so much as a peep, but this is what upsets you?"

"I came in here for you to fix my damn leg and shoulder. The rest of me is fine and firmly attached. I don't have any problems there."

"Who are you trying to convince Charon?"

Charon sat on the cot remaining silent. He didn't like this conversation and he didn't have to participate in it anymore.

"If you want to try and take as many precautions against going feral as you can, you need to do your part. Think of it as maintenance. Just a routine check to make sure everything is working as it should. That everything is healthy." Barrows tapped his clipboard against Charon's good leg. "Just see if you can still get it up sometime. Just to keep the blood going. Maybe if you can, it won't seem so horrible anymore. And if you can't, come back and we'll work on getting all your functions back whether you choose to use them or not."

"You're a damn letch." Charon stated flatly.

Barrows laughed. "Me? I'm not the hundred and fifty year old running around with some young smoothskin."

"She's my employer." Charon said grudgingly.

"Right." Barrows rolled his eyes.

"And I'm closer to one forty not fifty."

Barrows spun back in his seat to look at the glowing ferals through the window.

"My mistake."

Charon looked out the window to the two glowing ones. He couldn't tell them apart from one another even though Barrows had just pointed them out.

"Just maintenance?" Charon asked, still looking out the window.

Barrows sat back in his chair giving a small smile and nodded."Just maintenance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait on posting another chapter so soon...but oh well. 
> 
> I've been wanting to address some more things about ghouls physically so we're in Underworld again for a bit. 
> 
> Also, Charon doesn't like undressing if you couldn't tell, especially in front of people. I figured since Joanna just had a pretty personal situation, Charon should also start coming to face more personal problems of his own, or at least begin to address them in his mind.


	13. Chewing and Trimming the Fat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter of Joanna in Underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should be fanart at the end provided I did it correctly lol. rough drawing I did of Charon and Joanna

Carol dabbed a wet cloth against the cut of Joanna's lip. It stung, but she bit her tongue allowing Carol to attend to the wound.

"There now." She cooed. "So much blood for such a tiny scratch. You're lucky it wasn't much worse. Didn't even chip a tooth. Lucky girl." The ghoulette smiled warmly and patted Joanna's muss of knotted hair.

"Thank you Carol."

The woman clucked her tongue. "None of that now. You are welcome here any time. Although," Carol looked away, wringing the cloth in her hands, "I am a bit disappointed to see you back so soon. Not that I mind! It is good to see you safe! I just thought...maybe next time you'd have news on Gob."

The ghoulette stood up quickly, brushing her dress off. "Oh it's silly, I know, but I do miss him so. But Greta was always a bit jealous of Gob, you know?" Carol shook her head. "Listen to me prattling on, so rude! Here you are! Safe." She cupped Joanna's face in her hands. "My dear, you do remind me of him though. I think it's the eyes. Just a child's eyes."

"I'll get him your letters soon." Joanna said, feeling awkward as Carol stared at her with such tender affection.

"I know you will dear. Now eat. Drink." She pushed Joanna's chair into a nearby table that was set up with a small selection of food stuffs. "And don't mind Greta. She hates when I give things for free, but it's Carol's Place so it's Carol's rules. Got that?"

Joanna nodded as Carol gave her a wink and returned to the counter in the front room.

Joanna sat, finishing the offering Carol had left for her, and watched the hands on the clock of the room tick by slowly. It sure was taking a long time for Charon at the Chop Shop. She wondered if it would be okay to check on him.

The door creaked open slowly, allowing another unfamiliar ghoulette into the room. Although Joanna didn't recognize her, the woman stared intently at her. She approached and sat herself at the same table as Joanna.

"Charon's smoothskin, right?" the unfamiliar ghoul asked.

"Yes? Who are you?"

"Nurse Graves. I work at the Chop Shop." the ghoulette explained while bringing out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

"Is Charon alright?" Joanna asked, voice laced with concern and heavy with guilt.

Nurse Graves shrugged. "When has Charon ever been alright? Guy is a basket case." The ghoul shook out a cigarette from the box, offering it out to Joanna who politely refused.

"Is he going to be okay though? His wound looked bad."

"All of him looks bad, he's a ghoul. Guess he looks better than most though." Graves put the cigarette in her mouth and flicked a match to light it at the tip.

"How long will he be in there? The Chop Shop, I mean."

Graves took a drag off her smoke and let out a long exhale. She shrugged. "Beats me. Charon won't allow me near him. I got kicked out to the sidelines here."

"Not allowed near him? Why?" Joanna asked, confused by the smoking ghoulette's aloof demeanor.

"Don't know. Charon get's jumpy around pretty women. Never lets anyone touch him, except Doctor Barrows I guess." Her mouth held the cigarette loosely between her lips as she spoke.

"I can't imagine Charon being jumpy." Joanna shook her head with a smile. It was odd to think of him as being anything other than sullenly stoic or passively angry.

Nurse Graves laughed. "Yeah. He's an odd one." The ghoulette eyed her up and down from across the table. "Think you would mind donating some blood? Maybe a tissue sample?"

"Is it for Charon?" she asked with some concern.

"No, but it is for the clinic. Which he's using for free, by the way, so you're welcome." She tapped some ash off onto the floor.

"I suppose I can do that. Does Charon need anything?"

Graves shrugged again. "His armor is trashed. You should probably go ask Tulip if you can get him outfitted. I saw her skulking around downstairs in her shop still."

"Good idea." Joanna excused herself from the table and walked to the door. She turned to see Carol running over to stamp out Nurse Graves' cigarette, berating her for smoking in her establishment.

Joanna smiled. This place felt homier than most places she had been, including the vault.

\-----

As Joanna left Carol's Place a ghoul in the corner of the room called out to her.

"Smoothskin! Hey! Yeah, you! Come here a second." A broad ghoul slouched near a chair and low table lined with all sorts of small scissors and combs. The man had dark sunglasses that balanced on the remaining bridge of his nose and wore loose fitting silk pajamas that billowed around his frame.

Joanna was hesitant but decided to be friendly. No use in making enemies in this place.

"Yes? Who are you? Do you need something?"

"Oh no. I don't need something, but you do!" The white haired ghoul patted the seat next to him. "That's a lot of hair you got there. Names Snowflake, let me give you a cut."

Joanna was thoroughly confused.

"A cut? You want to cut my hair? Why?"

"Cause I'm a hair stylist, see?" He snipped the air with a pair of his small sheers. "Or I used to be back in Rivet City. Once you go ghoul, people don't really like you touching them. I won't charge or anything. I just need something to do with my hands now that the jets dried up. Come on. What do you say?"

"Rivet City? Can you tell me about it?" her interest was now piqued by curiosity.

"Sure. I got loads of stories so long as you take a seat." Snowflake wiped off the small chair near him.

Joanna reached up, touching the ratted tail of hair that collected at her neck. The bulk of her hair was now matted and windswept into a nest of knots. Her tresses never were much to look at but they never before weighed so heavy on her, like a dirty wasteland crown.

"Alright then. Go ahead and cut."

"Seriously? You won't regret it. You really won't." Snowflake said, smile plastering his face as he untied her tail of hair. "I'm thinking short on the sides and a little long on the top. A nice clean cut. Show off that face of yours."

Joanna shrugged, not really caring what he did so long as she could hear more about this Rivet City place her father supposedly ran off to.

\-----

Snowflake talked a mile a minute, never really letting Joanna get a word in edgewise. She listened to his wealth of information on the residents that lived on the boat and all about his transformation into his new self. The scissors Snowflake wielded snipped quietly away at her hair, leaving clips of her dark strands to float gently to the floor. She allowed for the ghoul to continue to clip away at her without a single care in the world.

It took nearly an hour but she didn't mind. Snowflakes hand's trembled, continuing to run through her hair, apologizing for his shaking.

"Jet usually keeps them still but I've been forced to cut back." He snorted, flicking a few stray hairs off her shoulders. "All done. Here you go." The ghoul handed her a mirror so she could admire his handiwork.

Joanna gasped, feeling her breath catch in her throat. Her father looked back at her in the small dirty reflection.

She knew it wasn't really her father, but the shortness of her hair accentuated all their shared features more prominently than she was used to.

Her head felt lighter and her heart felt full. There was no denying she was her father's daughter.

"Thank you Snowflake." She whispered, touching the tips of her newly exposed ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this really quickly before I have to work so I may need to fix things.


	14. Dealing with the Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon undergoes treatment and has to rest in the Chop Shop. Joanna makes her way around Underworld waiting to hear how long Charon will be held up.

Charon sat looking into the small room of shuffling ferals. One of the glowing ones had approached the glass, breathing a thick fog against the pane. Its eyes glazed over staring through Charon as if he were as transparent as the window separating them.

"It's impolite to stare Charon," Doctor Barrows spoke from behind, working at his chemistry station. "You're a real pain, you know that? Antibiotics take a lot of materials and time to make."

Charon was starting to feel his leg again, a dull pain that started to prickle at his remaining skin. A low rumble emanated from his chest as he pushed down on the tender part of his thigh.

"Pain?" Doctor Barrows asked, back still turned to him.

Charon only hummed in affirmation.

The doctor turned to Charon with a sigh. "I thought I told you to lay down. I'll fix it soon enough. Radiation and stimpacks should help heal over the skin graft pretty quickly. You'll only be held up a few days. Can't say your leg will come out looking any prettier though."

"Like I care." He laid down on the cot feeling horribly uncomfortable as his feet hung off the end of the bed.

Barrows wiped his hands down the front of his stained white tee, chuckling a bit at the tall ghouls awkward position. "I don't know about that. You seem awfully self conscious for someone who claims not to be vain."

"I don't claim to be anything." Charon retorted dryly. Doctor Barrows always knew how to annoy the hell out of him. He almost preferred Ahzrukhal's taunting.

Barrows looked down at him with a smile playing at his rotted lips. "Ready to take your medicine?"

The doctor pulled a half bottle of whiskey from a nearby shelf, offering it out to him.

Charon shook his head.

"It's going to hurt Charon. I have to cut in pretty deep to release the pressure. I can't give you any more med-x for the time being."

Charon just shook his head harder.

"You want something else?" Barrows asked, still swishing the bottle's contents around at him.

"Give me a belt."

The doctor sighed, retrieving a well worn length of leather from his counter drawer. The long strap was decorated with crescent shaped bite marks. Charon traced the deep punctures in the material, many of which were made by himself.

He folded the leather over, placing it firmly between his teeth, testing its strength a few times as his jaw clenched.

Doctor Barrows wheeled over a small tray of shiny scalpels and instruments Charon couldn't begin to name. The doctor gave Charon a pat on the shoulder as he began to lightly prod at his thigh. Charon looked up at the ceiling, imagining the glowing feral's face breathing hard against the window from earlier. He bit down on the strap in his mouth, preemptively awaiting the first cut.

The blade of the scalpel bit harder.

\------

Joanna walked into Underworld Outfitters with her newly shorn head held high. The ghoulette at the counter looked up, taking a moment to recognize the young woman in front of her.

"Oh. It's you. You're back." Tulip said with some surprise. "And you look...different."

Joanna ran a hand through her short mane. "I feel different." She looked around the room briefly trying to find what she came for."Got any armor for sale?"

"Oh. You actually came in to trade? That's...different." Tulip straightened up seemingly caught off guard by the request. "I have plenty of armor that should fit you."

Joanna shook her head. "It's for Charon. Do you have anything that might fit?"

Tulip's eyes widened. "Right. Charon is with you now isn't he? I heard about the mess he made of Ahzrukhal..." The ghoulettes fingers drummed at the countertop as she thought. "I do have one piece that might fit him, some dead Talon mercs armor Willow scrapped up from the pavement. Big guy. I scrubbed the insignia off the breast. Pretty good stuff."

She pulled the armor out from behind the counter. It looked scuffed but otherwise in excellent condition.

"I...don't think I can afford that." Joanna ran her hand sheepishly over the heavy metallic mesh weave of the armor, admiring the feel.

Tulip shrugged. "Just take it."

Joanna pulled her hand back abruptly in shock. "What?"

"If it's for Charon, just take it." Again the ghoulette gestured at the piece on the counter.

"I couldn't. It's worth too much."

"Charon's worth a lot too. I'm sure he'll have trouble finding good armor out there. So just take it." Tulip persisted.

Joanna rubbed at the back of her neck, missing the tail of hair she used to be able to worry between her fingers at moments like these.

"Do you and Charon..." she trailed off, unsure of how to properly ask what she was thinking. Joanna cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Are Charon and you 'together' like that?" She could feel a flush creeping into her cheeks. Joanna never considered what kinds of relationships she would be taking him away from outside of Underworld.

"Why, I mean, what? No! We aren't like that." The ghoulette pushed a few pieces of stringy hair behind her remaining ear as she stammered. "Charon is just like family here. To all of us. He wasn't just protecting Ahzrukhal all the time. He never...we never really spoke much." Tulip shook her head. "Just take the armor alright smoothskin?"

Joanna thanked her again, trying to ignore the burning questions in her gut. Even though Tulip continued to deny any personal admiration towards Charon, Joanna couldn't help but feel guilt steal away in her heart. She never thought about whether Charon was happy here, whether he missed his friends, if he had any friends. Maybe Charon wanted to stay in Underworld?

\-----

Charon wanted to get the fuck out of Underworld as fast as possible. He hated this place and the ghouls that inhabited it. The only person he sympathized with was Cerberus, and he was a damn robot.

Charon looked down at the large gaping wound of his thigh, now covered over with mismatched pieces of skin from the grafts. His leg was even uglier than before. He only wished he was more like the stupid robot that wandered around the halls. At least if he was, he wouldn't have to put up with all the complications his squishy flesh had to endure over the years. If only things were as simple as swapping out parts.

The procedure hurt like hell but had been over pretty quickly. The tall ghoul still felt his feet peeking off the edge of the bed, but tried to get as comfortable as he could, despite his cumbersome size. Barrows had warned him that he needed to rest, which he knew was difficult for him. His eyes never seemed to want to close when he wished them too. If the doctor was being kind he would give him something to knock him out cold, otherwise he was left staring up at the ceiling of the clinic bored with himself.

"Alright Charon, you can just stay here. I'll just go get that smoothie of yours for you-"

"NO."

Barrows stumbled a bit, surprised by Charon cutting him off so abruptly, and loudly.

"Do not let my employer see me like this." Charon turned his head to look at the wall.

Doctor Barrows was silent for a moment before he turned on his heel. "Have it your way, so long as you rest. The sooner I get you out of here, the better."

The door to the clinic shut behind the doctor, leaving Charon alone to stare at the wall. It was equally as uninteresting as the ceiling.

\------

Joanna shifted the bulky weight of the armor around in her arms, struggling to keep a firm grasp on it. In her awkward fumbling she didn't see the ghoul in front of her and collided with him, accidently dumping the armor onto the floor.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Joanna started as she bent down to recover Charon's gift.

"Looks like you could use a hand there." A familiar voice grated raspily at her.

Joanna looked at the ghouls shoes, followed up the hem of his blue pants, and landed on a Rob-Co label stitched at his breast. An old handkerchief poked out of the jumpers pocket, grease stained and well worn.

The greenish colored ghoul bent down to hoist the armor over his shoulder and offered a free hand to help the girl stand.

"Winthrop," Joanna smiled, truly pleased to see the mechanic again.

"Thought you left with Charon. What brings you back so soon?" The ghoul cast an awkward glance behind her, "He's not dead is he?"

"Oh, no. Not dead. We ran into trouble and well," she felt too embarrassed to give him the whole story. "Charon needed to go to the Chop Shop. I got this armor for him actually."

Winthrop seemed transfixed for a moment before snapping back to the topic at hand. "Right, right. Armor." He shrugged the weight of the outfit further onto himself. "Guess I can tote it for you there. My office is set up next to the clinic. Are you...are you feeling alright? Charon, he's not, I mean...everything's alright?"

She nodded. "Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

Winthrop looked away hesitantly. "I saw what he did to Ahzrukhal. He lived with that guy for years and all of a sudden to do something like that." The ghoul shook his head. "You're just a smoothskin, and a girl at that. Hate to see something like that happen to you."

Joanna heard the nerves in his voice. This wasn't the first time Winthrop had remarked on his wariness of Charon.

"Thanks for the concern but I'm doing alright. Just feeling a little sick but otherwise, I'm good. Far better off than Charon right now."

"Ah. Sick, yeah." Winthrop shifted his weight on his feet awkwardly, avoiding Joanna's eyes, as he found his handkerchief with his free hand. "Well you should go to Carol's and rest while you can. I'll just take this to the clinic for you."

"I'll come with you."

"No need. I got work to be getting to anyway. This damn place is falling in around our ears all the time. Take a break for both of us." He said as he turned to leave.

Joanna smiled at his kindness and began to make her way up the stairs before she heard the ghoul call out to her.

"Hey kid!" Winthrop said hurriedly, as if he had forgotten something urgent.

She looked back at him, concern rising in her chest.

Winthrop looked hesitant again as he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief again. "You're hair looks nice."

The ghoul walked away so fast, she didn't get a chance to respond.

The corners of her mouth curved up at the hurried compliment as she continued her ascent up the staircase.

\-----

Charon tried to prop himself up to sit against the wall, wedging a lumpy pillow behind his back for support. He didn't enjoy feeling so exposed. The doctor wouldn't allow him to cover his leg back up and his chest piece lay in tatters. A filthy undershirt clung to him, the dark fabric becoming nearly sheer in places due to the worn garments age. He felt out of place and a bit useless with his leg on full display.

His body went rigid as he heard the doorknob to the clinic jiggle before letting the door swing open. Charon quickly covered his exposure with the thin sheet that lay over the rest of him.

The ghoul that stood in the doorway was certainly not who Charon was expecting. The tightness in his chest eased slightly upon seeing that it wasn't his employer.

The clinic door closed as the man walked further inside, carrying something fairly large with him. Charon narrowed his eyes at the new ghoul, knowing his face, but not being able to place a name to him. Jerrold or Frankfort or something like that, right? He just couldn't seem to recall.

"Hey there Charon," the ghoul began awkwardly. "Got a delivery for you, I guess. The kid said this is for you."

Maybe it was Charlie?

The jumpsuit wearing ghoul looked around nervously before deciding on a place to set, what Charon now saw was armor, down upon. He pulled out a dirtied handkerchief from his pocket and started to wring it in his hands.

"So...Charon. We haven't talked much since you've been here. I fixed Ahzrukhal's fridge a few times but I wasn't really...well it doesn't matter." The ghoul cleared his throat a bit. "That smoothskin, Joanna. She's been pretty nice to our kind down here. It's not often that happens. I'd like her to keep a good impression of us folk just trying to get by."

No, it couldn't be Charlie. He didn't look like a Charlie.

Again, the ghoul standing in front of him wiped at his brow with the handkerchief his hands had been occupied with. "If there were more people like her in the world, we wouldn't be stuck down here in this busted old hole. I just wanted you to keep that in mind. People like that need to exist. So don't...don't do anything that would screw it up."

Winston. It had to be Winston.

"What you did to Ahzrukhal, I don't care why you did it." The ghoul seemed to become bolder as he spoke. "Just leave her out of it. I didn't fix her gear for her just so she could leave a more lootable corpse."

Was it Wallace? Something with a W.

"Got nothing to say to that? Fine." The man shifted awkwardly once more, before shuffling towards the door, casting a brief glance back at Charon. He opened his mouth to say something, before deciding against it, and left Charon alone once more.

Charon's eyes floated over to the armor, seeing the quality was better than his last set.

What the hell was Douglas talking about?  

Stretching his leg out a bit on the bed, Charon wondered what a feral did to keep from getting bored. Could they get bored? Maybe as long as he was aware that he was bored it would keep him from going mindless. But which would be worse, being unaware of anything because you're totally mindless or having a mind but being bored out of your skull. At least ferals didn't forget names. They don't even have to remember them. They couldn't.

As much as he was annoyed by his faulty memory, he wished that all of his thoughts could slip from him just as easily.

Through the curtains, he could see a soft green glow illuminate the window from behind, knowing the feral must be pressed close to the glass again.

 ------

Joanna ran her hands through the short portions of her hair, feeling the stubby bristles against her skin. The soft fuzz tickled pleasantly under her slick palms.

Her fascination was broken by a toppled sign that laid at her feet.

A sign for the Ninth Circle.

Her head turned to see the familiar door she had walked out of just a few nights before. She bit at her lower lip, remembering the hardness of the concrete beneath her knees and the sharp sting at her breast.

Her bandages itched, feeling as though they were sticking to her scabbing skin. Her abdomen cramped hard, the dull pain never really receding much since it first began in the subway. She was glad that Underworld had a few places that she could privately use to change the wedge of fabric that lined her pants. The material made her skin chafe, reminding her of how dirty she felt, and how at her most womanly time, she could feel anything but feminine.

Joanna sighed, running her hand through her hair again. She let the snippet of memory fall from her, stepping over the sign as she made her way past over to Carol's Place.

As she pushed the door to Carol's open, she felt a wave of exhaustion rush over her. Winthrop was right, she probably should rest while she could.

A ghoul in a stained tee shirt sat where Nurse Graves had earlier that day, beckoning the vault girl over to sit. Joanna bemoaned her newfound popularity, but sat down regardless.

"You're-"

"Charon's smoothskin, right." Joanna cut him off.

The ghoul smiled, sticking his hand out to shake her own warmly. "Doctor Barrows. I've been treating Charon."

"Everything alright?" She felt herself growing nervous for her companion.

The doctor waved her question off. "Yes, yes. Everything is fine. Charon is doing well, just needs a few days of rest."

"Few days huh?" Joanna's heart sank over the idea of lost time.

"Eager to roam the wastes that badly?" Barrows asked amusedly.

"Not that. I just am looking for someone. But I need Charon well first. I can't be out there alone."

Tapping a fork lightly on the table, Barrows looked Joanna up and down for a long moment before speaking again.

"Seeing as you are Charon's new guardian, I figure I may as well tell you a few things." He handed her a sheet of paper, scrawling hand written notes lined the entirety of the yellowing parchment.

"Guardian? Is that what I am?"

Barrows shrugged. "Guardian, employer, contract holder. I don't pretend to understand the dynamic of the relationship. I didn't with Ahzrukhal and I don't with you. But for whatever reason Charon has now transferred his loyalty onto you. I implore you to take better care of him than Ahzrukhal did."

Doctor Barrows motioned to the paper in her hands."He'll need antibiotics for some time while his leg clears up. If he runs out, get him back here. Making these in bulk takes time."

He pointed at a line of words on the paper. "He needs to follow these instructions each time he wakes up from resting. They're stretches and strengthening exercises. He will most likely say he doesn't need them. Trust me, he does." He pointed further down the line. "And here. Make sure he cleans often and regularly, he can't always be left sweating in his armor for days at a time. His skin needs to breathe. He'll fight you on that one, I'm sure."

Joanna swallowed hard feeling a bit overwhelmed. Charon isn't some sick dog needing 24 hour caretaking, he  was a person, a grown man for that matter. Surely he didn't need to be doted on to keep himself from falling apart, did he?

A small bottle rattled in Barrows' hand as he took it out of his pocket. He placed it on the table before them, allowing Joanna to inspect the contents.

A large amount of pills sat full to the brim. They were small white round tablets, no bigger than the tip of her finger.

"Are these the antibiotics?"

Barrows shook his head. "They're not for Charon."

Joanna looked at the doctor confused once more.

"They're for you. They should help a bit for headaches, cramping, that sort of thing. They aren't very potent, just a very mild painkiller, but they're easy enough to make. Won't really help with other symptoms though."

Joanna's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "Why..." she began, only to choke on her question.

Barrows brushed his finger along the ridge of his nose. "Pheromone changes are something ghouls are especially sensitive to. Some more than others. Carol requested I give you something if I could spare it. It's not much but this stuff might as well be sugar pills to us ghouls. Totally worthless."

"So Carol..." she trailed off, embarrassed for herself and her situation.

The doctor continued to tap a fork on the table, totally unphased by her nerves. "She seems to have taken a liking to you. A few people here have already. Now that you're traveling with Charon, you may as well be part of us too."

"I'm not a ghoul. I've barely been here for very long."

"Well then I guess you've just been blessed with a magnetic personality. Consider yourself lucky and just accept it."

Joanna glanced back over the paper the doctor gave her. Purchasing Charon came with a lot more paperwork than she realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't been able to write as much this last week. Next chapter will hopefully be up soon. Charon and Joanna will be traveling once more to Rivet City after their small sidetrack to Underworld.


	15. No Accounting for Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna and Charon are reunited once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter for now

Charon sat feeling bored as the time ticked away in the clinic. Nurse Graves came in to click away at the terminal in the corner, puffing through packs of cigarettes at a time. Barrows went about fiddling with his chemistry set and running back and forth between the clinic and the room of ferals. Charon didn't really ask what the doctor was doing with the two glowing ones. He didn't really want to know.

Barrows told him Joanna was sitting around at Carol's as he was stuck under observation. He knew it would take some time before Joanna could travel safely through the subways again, so he wasn't particularly bothered by the time they needed to spend waiting. At least he didn't have to spend that time with her. Charon hated the silence of the Chop Shop but had grown accustomed to living more or less alone in his head.

The radiation treatments made his skin tingle but it seemed to speed up the healing process. The skin grafts that covered the large incisions made by Barrows were starting to deepen to match the shade of his own weathered tissue. Still, his leg remained a molted tapestry of veins, flesh, and muscle. At least it was still going to be functional, as Doctor Barrows had assured him.

It was hard to keep track of how long he had been in the Chop Shop. Sometime during the third day, Barrows let Charon start putting weight on his leg, hobbling about the room. His motions mimicked the ferals Barrows kept on hand. The thought caused Charon to push his body harder. On the fourth day, he was able to keep himself up with only a small limp being present. Doctor Barrows had given him the okay to leave his supervision, allowing Charon to don his new armor and go to his employers side.

\-----

Joanna had spent a majority of her time at Carol's helping out around Underworld where she could. She always was pretty handy, so she assisted Winthrop with a few of his projects. Greta seemed to be cross regarding Carol's fascination with Joanna, making the young vault girl flee any time she was left under the ghoulette's scrutinizing gaze.

Winthrop didn't seem to mind the help, even admitting he was fairly impressed with her abilities. It felt good to hear her assistance was appreciated. Charon had been quick to point out her mistakes. She was just glad to be good at something, only wishing Charon could see her during moments like these and not at her worst.

She barely knew Charon but still couldn't help but want to impress him. He appeared so capable and self sufficient. Much like her father, he always seemed to be one step ahead of her, possessing information and knowledge that he kept close to himself, unwilling to share. Despite the warning the doctor had given her, she couldn't see how Charon could need much supervision. Besides, who was she to tell him how to take care of himself when she could barely manage herself?

Joanna was sitting at Carol's Place again, sipping gingerly at a small ration of purified water. The liquid picked up the stale metallic taste from the can it was held in, but she didn't mind it. Everything outside the vault had some kind of bite to it, from the food to the people. Her lip was still scabbing over, bruised slightly from her fall in the subway days ago. Any remaining pain was numbed to the point of nonexistence with the additional help of the small doses of painkillers Barrows had given her.

The door to Carol's creaked open causing Joanna to dribble a bit of water down the side of her mouth. She was afraid Greta returned from her break and prepared herself to make a dash for the exit. Instead a large ghoul stood fully armored in the doorway, careful not to hit his head on the low hanging frame.

Charon was even more formidable in the repurposed Talon armor. It added a presence to him, much sleeker than the leather and metal plating of his last set. His shoulders looked broader with the extra padding, exaggerating the narrowness of his hips. The tall ghoul cracked his neck, rubbing at the armored side of his shoulder that had been scorched by the energy blast. His eyes found hers instantly. It only took him a few long strides to come to stand next to where she sat.

"Mistress."

Joanna felt a bit intimidated by the ghouls size, wondering if she ever wouldn't be. His body seemed to engulf hers, casting a shadow she couldn't hope to rise out of if she tried. He towered over her seated form, larger and harder looking than before. The vault girl felt her hands turn into heavy stones in her lap. How the hell did Barrows think she could tell him to do anything? Even her attempts at commanding him in the subway had turned out pathetic, feeling wrong coming out of her mouth.

"You look...better." She managed to croak out in her timidness. Joanna was glad the water aided in softening her words, otherwise she feared they would have cracked like the burnt twigs that littered the ground outside. No other ghoul here made her feel so utterly insignificant.

Charon gave a small grunt.

The tips of Joanna's fingers rose to hesitantly touch at the fine pieces of hair at the top of her head.

"Snowflake cut my hair...do you like it?" She wasn't really sure why she was asking. It's not like she imagined he would care.

To her surprise, the large ghoul nodded. "Yes."

"Really?" She wanted to hear his approval once more.

Charon nodded again. "A very practical decision on your part."

Practical. It wasn't exactly the best compliment she had received but it was more than she expected to get out of him.

Joanna smiled, taking another long sip of her water. It was refreshing to say the least.

"I guess it will be easier to maintain this way," she said snaking her nervous fingers through the roots. "Do you think it looks alright? I wasn't really able to see the back you know." Joanna gave a nervous laugh as she pressed him for another compliment, hoping her prying wasn't too transparent.

Charon leaned around her side, chest inches from her face as he inspected the exposed nape of her neck. His hovering figure caused her heart to pause for a moment before it hammered back to life. She could feel her pulse beat through the can she still held, fearing the rhythm would be strong enough to echo off the metal walls of the hollow container.

Her employee only took a second to glance at the back of her head before humming his approval.

"You'll draw less attention to us. This is good." Charon stated, apparently pleased, but she couldn't tell that by his tone.

"Why is that?"

"Because you look more like a boy. It should greatly reduce the amount of annoying wastelanders and raiders that may approach us."

Joanna's smile fell.

"You like my hair...because it makes me less approachable...because it's unattractive?" She reasoned out slowly, feeling her hands once again weighed down to her sides like lead.

"That is not what I said."

"But it's what you implied." Joanna felt heat rising to flush her cheeks.

"You are offended." He observed coolly.

"Well, yeah! I'm offended if you are telling me I'm unattractive!" The metallic taste of the water nipped at her tongue, leaving her with less satisfaction than the initial sip.

Her bodyguard sighed. "If it is somehow important that I find you attractive, then please continue to make practical decisions. I find that to be an attractive, and life saving, quality."

Joanna grit her teeth, wanting to argue over his backhanded compliment, but decided to let it drop and change the subject.

"Armor looks good. You know, Tulip gave you that for free. You two must get on fairly well." Her tone sounded oddly accusing for a simple observation, even to her own ears.

Charon shrugged.

"Are you going to miss her?" she asked.

Charon shook his head.

"What about Underworld? Aren't you going to miss anybody?"

Charon shook his head again.

"Isn't there anything about this place you're going to miss?"

Charon took a moment to think before responding to her question.

"The quiet," he finally settled on.

So far, the two of them had spent nearly more time apart than together, but Joanna couldn't help but notice something about her partner already.

He was kind of a dick.

She gulped down the last dregs of the water that had collected at the bottom of the can. The metallic twang was more pronounced, but she drank it nonetheless. Joanna figured if she could manage to swallow it down, eventually she'd get used to the taste. She only hoped Charon would prove more palatable than his late employer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be able to get some more of this done soon but figured I would post this in the meantime. I also want to start working on pictures to go along with the story but that'll take some time. We'll see how much I can do in my short times off between work. lol 
> 
> I'm excited to start getting more into these two bantering along the way XD I have a lot of ideas for how I want Charon to start developing. We'll start getting more into "romantic" parts soon, or at least have some events that start to push towards developing that kind of relationship. Rivet City up next


	16. Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna and Charon find their way to Rivet City.

The trip to Rivet City ended up being much like their first outing to the Museum of Technology. Nothing but awkward silence and dead bodies between them as they made their way through the tunnels. Holes littered the walls of the southern entrance to the metro made by gunfire and plasma rifles. Spent casings laid down the tracks next to feral corpses, piled neatly into small smoldering pyres throughout. The Brotherhood's handiwork.

The tracks they went down had all been cleared out, but Charon didn't let his guard down. His shotgun had been dropped the night they ran from the tunnels so he now squeezed the grip of Joanna's 10mm in his hand. She didn't seem to mind him taking it this time. Brotherhood soldiers cleared out areas of the mall often, only to be overrun by another threat. Each time the ferals got swept away, raiders came to replace them until a new horde rose up from the depths or super mutants dragged them away. Either way, the tunnels wouldn't be empty for long, moving quickly while they could was as good a strategy as any.

Charon let Joanna lead them through the subway, her Pipboy illuminating a small portion of the tunnel as they walked. The girl was wearing her mask again so he couldn't see her face, but he could picture her expression. A frown had been plastered to her face ever since their brief exchange at Carol's. Charon would think a normal smoothskin would be happy to leave Underworld, but here Joanna was, miserable. What an unusual girl.

After many hours of winding down the tracks, the two stopped to rest at a long abandoned raider post. His leg felt as good as new, or at least, as good as he could remember it ever being. The burn in his muscles was only from the extensive walking and not from the constricting buildup of pressure burdening his movements like before.

 Joanna pulled up a chair to sit at a flimsy table. The surface was spotted with dried stains and old cigarettes smoked down to the filter. A few broken syringes and discarded needles scattered across the floor as Charon pulled a second chair for himself.

The girl slipped the feral mask from her face, revealing smooth features in the Pipboy's soft glow.

She still wore a small frown as she bit at her lips, the cut on her uppermost fading into the blotchy purple skin that formed there. Charon watched her full mouth part as she ran her tongue over her large teeth. With her hair now cut so short he could see her ears sticking out from the sides of her head. She looked a bit like a rad rabbit. All scrawny in places with features too big for the delicate structure underneath. Too young and too innocent to be running around in the ruins of DC with a ghoul.

"Careful. Ferals may not have all been flushed out." He warned her as he watched her flipping little dials on her wrist.

"There hasn't been a feral in miles. I'm in more risk of being asphyxiated by this stupid thing right now." She sighed, laying the mask on the table while looking at her Pipboy. "We're getting close already. Almost halfway to Anacostia Crossing station. Rivet City is directly south of that."

Charon was impressed with her navigation skills so far. They hadn't had any issues getting lost or turned around at any point. Whether it was her abilities or the accuracy of the Pipboy's station map, he wasn't certain, but he was grateful.

"You may wish to rest before we continue on. I'd rather we not have to stop for long on the way." Charon suggested, hoping his employer would agree with him.

Joanna shook her head. "We can press forward. I've slept more than enough. Unless you need to rest, I'd prefer to just get there already."

The vault girl pulled the mask back over her face. All her soft features became obscured once more, leaving Charon to look at the drooping flesh of an ugly feral. A small prickle ran through him that he tried his best to shrug off. It must be the mask, he thought. He wished he didn't have to look at it anymore.

As they continued on, Charon stared at the back of Joanna as she led the way with her Pipboy light. Even with the bulk of her leathers, her body swayed underneath. His eyes followed the fluid line of her form, from her rounded hips to her narrow shoulders. The back of her mask had an ugly thick seam that ran up from the base of her neck to the crest of her skull.

He rubbed the back of his own neck, feeling the raw patches of skin and stringy hair. At the base of his skull he could feel a bit of hard bone jutting out at a sharp angle. As hard as he concentrated, no seam or zipper materialized for him to pull on. His own grotesque mask couldn't be so easily removed, making him all the more anxious to snatch at hers and fling it far into the darkness.

"So Charon, how long were you employed by Ahzrukhal?"

The tall ghoul was caught off guard by the sudden question but recovered quickly enough to answer without her noticing.

"Too long." He responded, trying to make his disinterest clear.

"Who did you work for before him?"

"None of your business."

"What?" She stopped in her tracks. "How is that none of my business? You are my business."

"No. You are my employer. I am not required to divulge personal information to you."

"So you can't tell me anything about yourself?"

"I never said I can't. Just said I won't."

Joanna turned to him. He expected to be berated by his comments, knowing full well he wasn't trying to step around her feelings like he did with Ahzrukhal. Maybe deep down he wanted her to lash out at him.

Instead, Joanna laughed. A girlish giggle muffled by the tanned flesh of her face covering.

"You're kind of an asshole." She said playfully, walking back along the track.

Charon wasn't trying to be funny, he didn't even find anything about the conversation funny, and he certainly didn't think being called an asshole was funny.

"That's not a nice thing to say to the ghoul who saved your smooth hide a few dozen times now."

He heard her huff through her mask. "Isn't that your job?"

Charon shrugged. He supposed that was true enough but he hadn't remembered another employer that had so quickly needed his intervention so many times.

Joanna had said she purchased him because of the advice he gave her back at the Washington Monument. She wouldn't have made it on her own, but each step they took brought them closer to Rivet City, and possibly the vault girl's father. Soon, she may be reunited with her old man, no longer alone and no longer needing to travel in the ruins.

Charon wondered what would happen to his contract if she did find him. Would he be sold off as soon as she realized she didn't need him anymore? Who else would want or need a ghoul out by Rivet City?

A trading caravan might want him to protect their wares on the road but the thought of following behind a stinking brahmin in the sweltering sun was less than appealing. Maybe one of the residents would take him, making him just another part of the cities useless guard force.

During one of Snowflake's particularly long nights at the Ninth Circle, he overheard that ghouls weren't exactly warmly welcomed in Rivet City. Snowflake said as soon as people realized his gloves weren't part of a new fashion statement they practically threw him off the boat, thinking his skin condition was contagious.

Snowflake had come to Underworld still in the process of ghoulification. If the people in Rivet City were afraid of him, he didn't really want to know how they would react to himself. Snowflake still had his nose when he left.

Joanna hummed a tune as they continued walking. It wasn't entirely horrible to listen to and it kept her from asking any more questions.

He supposed his new employer wasn't too bad or at least there were plenty of alternatives in his head that were far worse. She didn't travel with a stinking brahmin and she didn't give him shit for looking like a corpse.

In fact, she was fairly well mannered towards ghouls compared to most wastelanders. Plus, he had to admit, she wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at...

The girl stopped suddenly, causing Charon to nearly bump into her before his mind caught up to speed.

"Anacostia Crossing. We're here."

Surprised, Charon looked towards the stairs of the platforms exit. Time seemed to have melted away faster than he expected, but he wasn't complaining. Taking a step up towards the metro gate, he supposed his questions over his contracts fate would be answered soon.

Coming up from the subway, Charon couldn't tell initially if the sun was rising or setting, as thick clouds of fog blanketed the path in dreary wisps of grey. Before them, a large airship carrier pierced through the atmosphere's thick bleak drapes, sitting broken in two pieces in the irradiated waters below the stationary vessel.

"Wow." Joanna's voice broke breathily over the crisp chill air. "Is that Rivet City, Charon?"

"Yes mistress." His voice rumbled low feeling rustier than the groaning city in the distance.

"And that's where my dad is?" She asked softly, more to herself than to him.

Charon holstered Joanna's 10mm shrugging his shoulders. "Don't know, but we will find out if that is what you wish."

\-----

Joanna felt her palms grow slick with nervous perspiration as she watched the long metal bridge to Rivet City swing out towards her and Charon. The thick cables holding the bridge aloft groaned as the slow pulley mechanism brought the platform to a halt before firmly clapping into place. Her mouth felt dry as she waited for the all clear to cross.

The call box next to Charon clicked to life. A voice scratched out from the soft static to speak at the pair. "Alright. Get moving."

Charon allowed her to go first down the narrow walkway towards the beached ship.

Looking over the edge, Joanna held back a gasp, seeing the angry lapping water below. A strong breeze could knock her like a leaf from a tree, only to fall heavy like a stone to a watery tomb. She felt her vision blur and knees go weak until a steady hand behind her gripped tightly at her shoulder.

Glancing back, she saw Charon's eyes staring firmly at her own. Another hand at the small of her back anchored her, giving her borrowed strength to push forward until they reached the other side.

An armored man sat at the end of the bridge staring daggers into her and Charon.

"State your business here in Rivet City." The dark haired man said gruffly.

"I'm looking for my father." Joanna said as evenly as she could.

The man looked her up and down. "Right." He said, then turning to look behind her at Charon. "Is he looking for his daddy too?"

Joanna swallowed her fear, letting her annoyance rise to speak for her instead.

"Look, my father is James. He came here to find Doctor Li. Just tell me where they would be and you won't have to deal with us anymore."

The man sighed, shifting his weight on his feet before letting his guard down a notch. "Doctor Li should be in the science lab. No one lives here by the name of James but Li has been hanging around some guy lately. Guess it wouldn't be a problem to let you pass. Right? It won't be a problem, will it?" The man asked firmly to both her and Charon.

Joanna shook her head. "No problem at all...from either of us."

"Good." He huffed. "Names Harkness. Here in Rivet City, if you cause trouble you answer to me. You, or your ghoul buddy here." Harkness eyed the large ghoul behind her again. "So you best behave. And don't go sticking your nose where it don't belong. That should be easy enough for you." Harkness said pointedly at Charon.

The ghoul made a low noise of displeasure in his chest.

\-----

The inside of the ship was rusted with age and wear. Orange oxidation crusted the walls, hugging tightly at the bolts that kept the siding in place. Charon couldn't remember being in Rivet City, but felt a familiar sense of déjà vu spread throughout his bones as he looked around the militaristic vessel.

Signs and arrows pointed in opposing directions labeling the public locations of interest. Joanna ran a finger across one for the science lab, following the arrow to one of the ships heavy sealed doors.

Charon opened the door for her to the midship's hallway. A cool mist gathered in the narrow passage causing the metal walls and floor to become slick with moisture. Thick rubber sheets laid scattered about to make for surer footing. Charon found that the doorways were all too low for his head, so he had to make a conscious effort to stoop low as they followed the pathway of arrows.

A few people looked with mouths half opened at the two in the tight knit halls, but no one stopped them to chat. At first, he thought it was because of him, knowing ghouls were most likely an uncommon occurrence; but then he looked at Joanna. Her face was stern, as if concentrating hard, and her movements were hurried and urgent. She didn't look like someone who wanted to idly chat with the locals. At least not right now. She had the eyes of a tracker hunting her prey, alert and focused.

After following the old signs through a few twists and turns they reached another closed door. The sign above read: Science Lab.

Charon was about to reach out to push the large door open, but stopped as he saw the handle rotate on its own, opening slowly from the other side.

A man in a blue jumpsuit pushed through the door, a mass of papers folded into the crook of his arms as he used a free hand to bring a coffee mug up to his lips.

The man sipped at the contents of the mug while casting a glance up from his workload.

His features were large like Joanna's, but a bit more angular, harder even. His hair sported nearly the same cut as her own, although peppered with age, accentuating the closeness of their shared qualities. A stubbly beard ghosted his face like the deep shadows that contoured hers.

This had to be the guy.

"Honey?" James said quietly, letting his papers fall from his arm to scatter onto the ground.

Charon looked to Joanna, expecting to see her doe eyes wet with tears and affection. Instead, he was surprised to see her face drawn into a seething look of contempt and her front teeth bared in a half sneer.

Before Charon could stop her, Joanna closed the gap between herself and her father, using one of her open hands to send his coffee cup flying into the wall, shattering violently at the impact.

A sharp noise split the following silence as her open palm snapped powerfully across James' face, his head nearly smacking the wall with the force of the blow.

Joanna whipped around fast enough to make Charon's own head dizzy as he tried to keep pace behind her, leaving her father in the doorway of the science lab.

Charon guessed she would be needing his contract after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this a few days ago but I had a ton of work. There should be one more chapter tomorrow at least, I just couldn't finish it properly tonight. I have some time off that I'm planning to use on writing more so we'll see how much I can get done this weekend. :) hopefully a lot. 
> 
> This is where a few things from the main story line obviously begin to deviate. The father's character has a lot of changes later on, but again, this all will take a back seat shortly as I have other things I would rather focus on. 
> 
> More coming soon! Like maybe when I wake up and am thinking straight enough to fix the next chapter. lol


	17. Abandoning Purity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna isn't as thrilled as she thought she would be finding her father.

Joanna's palm stung, feeling like the whole thing beat with its own pulse of numb pain. From some distance behind her, she could hear her father calling out her name frantically as she walked briskly back down the hall.

She hadn't planned on smacking him, hadn't planned on turning away, and certainly hadn't planned on feeling like turning around to smack him again.

But she did.

She let her father tug her into an empty side room where old desks and furniture sat unused. Her father's mouth moved but all she could hear was a thudding rush of blood drumming a shallow beat into her ears as she smacked him once more.

Joanna let a broken sob escape her as she balled her fists up so she could begin to hit him properly. She closed her eyes, continuing her weak assault. Each punch was punctuated with curses and wails of "how could you?" and "why?"

Her slapping and flailing grew even more pathetic as she felt her knees shake. A large hand caught her own in a loose grip, but she couldn't pull away from the hold. Opening her eyes, she realized Charon had placed himself between her and her father. The ghoul now held her hands still against his armored chest. Her blows had been for nothing landing against Charon's bulk, she may as well have been hitting the air.

Joanna gave up, feeling as though she couldn't support herself any longer as an invisible weight bore down upon her shoulders. Charon helped to lower her softly to the ground as she allowed herself to hiccup in uncontrolled spasms.

Joanna could hear her father speaking loudly over several other raised voices from the hallway but couldn't pick out any meaning to the words.

Charon bent down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax." She heard his voice rumble close to her ear before he stood to walk toward the open door.

\----

Charon watched his employer sit on the floor uselessly after her tantrum while a Rivet City guard and small group of people gathered in the hall around the door to the dimly lit room.

The city guard and James argued back and forth over the tiny crowd.

"She can't just come into our city and attack people!" The guard bellowed, meeting with agreeing cheers from the onlookers.

James began babbling defenses for his daughters public outburst."No. She wasn't attacking anyone! I'm her father!"

"Attacking her own father? Not in this city!" Again, the guard was met with nods and words of approval by the bystanders.

The discourse ran back and forth until everyone in the vicinity was noisily buzzing with their own commentary and questions over the whole inflated affair.

"SHUT UP." Charon barked as best as his torn vocals would allow. A hush fell over the hall as the large ghoul dipped his head down to take a menacing step out of the doorway. "The kid's done. Clear out. Now." He gritted out the words trying to be as intimidating as possible.

It seemed to work as the few onlookers hesitantly backed away while the guard followed.

"Harkness will hear about this." He could hear someone in the crowd mutter.

Sighing, he turned back into the room to find James stooping low to whisper calmly at Joanna's side.

"Do you mind giving us some privacy to talk alone?" James asked towards Charon, still trying to soothe the girl.

"Yes, I do mind." Charon grunted.

"I want to speak to my daughter alone."

"I don't give a shit what you want asshole."

James stood up looking cross. "She's my daughter." He said firmly.

"And she's my employer. You want me to go? Talk to her." Charon pointed down to the fragile girl on the floor.

The man's brow furrowed in confusion. "Honey?" He questioned, casting a glance down at Joanna.

Joanna stood shakily like a newborn calf, all knock kneed and unbalanced. Staggering over to sit down on one of the desks, she dried her face with her sleeve, sopping up tears and snot with the plaid fabric. "Charon stays. I want Charon to stay." She said brokenly voicing her decision on the matter.

\-----

If Charon had a choice, he really would have preferred waiting outside. He already witnessed the less than successful reunion between James and Joanna, he didn't exactly want to be here for the rest of the uncomfortable display.

James now paced the floor of the room, his face nestled between his hands, rubbing down the sides of his short beard in contemplation. Charon saw he still wore one of the infamous blue jumpsuits vaulties generally sported. His suit had bold yellow numbers on the back that jumped out against the dirty powder blue color. That was odd, Charon thought, he could have sworn the kid said she was from Vault 101 back from her ranting in the tunnels, but her father's suit was numbered 112. Maybe he misheard. It's not like he cared to pay much attention.

The two vault dwellers spoke without looking directly at one another, emotions obviously strained between them. Charon only bothered to drift in and out of their conversation, more out of politeness than anything. He really didn't need to be hearing all this touchy feely bullshit anyway.

"You were never supposed to leave that vault." James said for what seemed like the hundredth time already.

"They killed Jonas. What chance do you think I had?" Joanna sniffled.

"Those fools. What was the Overseer thinking?" James brought his hands down onto one of the desks.

"What were you thinking?!" Joanna snapped back at him, rising from her own empty desk.

Again, the tension in the room wound taught threatening to break entirely. Charon held his position just in case Joanna needed him once more.

"I was thinking you would be safe. That's all I wanted you to be." James walked over to hold Joanna's hand. Charon took a step forward but allowed the contact to continue so long as Joanna didn't voice any opposition.

"I didn't want you to have to grow up in the hell of the wastelands. Hunting and scavenging to get by. Hanging out with," he cast a brief glance at Charon, "the wrong kinds of people..."

Charon couldn't hold back an annoyed snort at the less than subtle slight.

Joanna pulled her hand from her fathers to look at Charon.

"Charon, can you go wait in the hall please? I think I want to talk to my father alone now."

"As you wish." Charon grumbled taking a step outside the doorway.

\-----

Charon stood in the hall feeling nearly as awkward as he did inside the room with the bickering pair. His skin began to crawl, feeling the ghostly hand of his contract snake up his limbs to worm its way into his mind. Joanna was in no trouble being alone with her father, but he couldn't help feeling the same way as he did when he waited outside the door at the Ninth Circle for Ahzrukhal and her to finish talking. With no real task for him to do he felt useless and strangely bare.

People walked past him avoiding direct eye contact. A few times he spotted a child or two leaning around corners to sneak peeks at him. Charon didn't bother trying to hide his disgruntled demeanor.

It felt like ages before Joanna and James came out of the room. Charon was surprised when James walked up to his side obviously intent on exchanging words with him.

"I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot. I'm James, and from what I hear, you are the man I owe for my daughter reaching me safely." James reached a hand out towards Charon. "Thank you, Charon."

The ghoul looked down at the outstretched hand before him. What was it with these two vaulties and shaking hands with ghouls? Begrudgingly, Charon allowed James to shake his hand firmly, once again uttering his appreciation for the ghoul's services.

James looked back at his daughter once more. "If you change your mind, you know where I'll be sweetie."

"If you change yours, you'll know where I'll be too." Joanna said sounding tired and a bit hoarse.

Her father nodded, still smiling affectionately as he moved to hug her close. Joanna let him but only barely returned the gesture.

As her father's figure disappeared around the corner, Joanna sighed heavily, clearly exhausted from the turn of events.

"Doctor Li and my father are moving their work down to the Jefferson Memorial. While we're here we can use Doctor Li's room." The girl moved to stretch her back with a groan. "Glad this place has working plumbing at least. What a luxury. Guess dad sure knows how to get into the exclusive parts of the wasteland, huh?" She sighed wearily again."Come on Charon. Maybe we can actually clean the feral smell off our clothes tonight."

He grunted. "Maybe _you_ can."

Joanna looked back at him cracking a small smile, the first he had seen today.

\-----

Doctor Li's bedroom was relatively cozy considering the location. A lantern flickered on a roll top desk, casting an orange hue around the small room. Most of Li's belongings seemed to have been cleared out,  but there were a few objects lying around that Joanna's father had told her she was welcomed to use.

A plush looking queen sized bed took up most of the space in the center of the floor. The mattress was adorned with a set of matching clean sheets, all ivory white with little lace trimming around the edges. All the furniture in the room was made of glossy wood, looking newly lacquered. Everything gave off a richness Joanna had not seen anywhere else in the wasteland so far. How Doctor Li could acquire these things, she didn't know, but it made her feel good knowing such treasures were still left to be had in the world.

Joanna rummaged through what items remained in the room's small dresser to find something for her to wear. Her fingers found the straps of a short silk nightie, nearly sheer, acting more as lingerie than true clothing. She held the garment up to herself to see the material barely reach her mid thigh. Joanna cast a glance up, noticing Charon was watching her from the corner of the room. Blushing, she shoved the skimpy material back into the drawer to search for something else.

Eventually she found something worthwhile. A plain cotton shirt that was neatly cleaned and folded at the bottom of the drawer. Everything else had either been dresses, skirts, or things that just wouldn't fit well under her armor. She had not personally met Doctor Li but could picture how she might appear. Prim and proper, not letting a single hair out of place. If only she knew a dirty wastelander was riffling through her belongings, she would probably have a heart attack.

Li's room was one of the few that had its own bathroom attached, unlike most of the residents who had to all make use of communal areas. Joanna saw that Li's station within the city gave her quite a few benefits.

Gripping her new shirt tightly in her hands, Joanna left Charon to sit in the bedroom while she stole away into the washroom. It was fairly cramped but still held a small toilet, sink, and shower. The toilet was little more than a small seat and hole, more like a glorified pot than a proper toilet, but she felt grateful all the same. The sink was wedged closely nearby with only a few feet of floor separating the two utilities from the shower.

A spotless mirror hung over the tiny basin of the sink on the wall. Looking up at her reflection, Joanna could see the deep bags under her eyes and the scabbing skin of her lip. Red rimmed her bloodshot eyes due to her previous crying, the sides of her nose were raw and sore from wiping at it so often. She looked worse than the time Butch had bloodied her nose up for spitting on a sweet roll he had wanted.

Stripping out of her armor was difficult in the confined space but not impossible. She shimmied out of the rest of her clothing, piling it up along with her leathers on the floor.

Her arm and chest were still tightly bandaged with dirty linens. The fabric that was bound around her arm was hard to unwind given that she hadn't changed the dressings since Charon had put them on in the Washington Memorial. Tugging at the material caused her scabs to tear open anew. She ran water from the sink over the bandages, hoping the wet fabric wouldn't tear at the injury as much.

The small incisions from the centaur tongue had left neat rows of deep punctures on her forearm. The cuts looked clean so she hoped they wouldn't leave scars once they were fully healed.

She began to peel away her next bindings at her chest. The bite mark Ahzrukhal had left welted her skin a deep purple with sickly pale green edges. She winced as she pressed around the injury seeing the shallow teeth marks had already healed over. The memory of the taste of the foul ghoul still made her gag.

Joanna hooked her fingers into her last remaining article of clothing and pulled down. Holding her underwear in her hands, she inspected the dirtied material closer. Old blood streaked down the lining of her panties, staining the delicate fabric. She turned on the sink to soak and scrub at the filthy undergarments and bandages she had discarded, making little headway.

The vault girl wrung out the washed pieces of clothing as best as she could before stepping into the small shower behind her.

Luke warm water trickled down in a small weak stream. Normally, Joanna would complain about the lack of pressure behind the flow but she wasn't in a position to nitpick. She cupped her hands under the showerhead watching the water pool in her palms.

This is what it had all been about, this is what had made her father leave her behind without so much as a goodbye. Water.

Or more precisely, Project Purity.

Joanna snorted at the name. Project Purity. Her father must have come up with the title, she was sure. He had always been the cheesy sort.

Lathering herself with soap, she thought about what her father had told her today. All the things she never knew, all the things that he never told her. She scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin as his words replayed in her head. Grey and brown streaks of dirt and blood ran down the length of her body to circle the drain with the pouring water.

Her father told her the project was to purify the wastelands water, making the water clean, drinkable, and free for anyone in need. "The waters of life" is what he had said her mother called it so many hopeful times. But of course the project was abandoned as soon as Joanna was born and her mother died. Her father wasn't able to cope with the additional burden and stress of the projects more recent downfalls. He never was the best multitasker.

Joanna still felt filth on her skin, under her nails where her blood had collected in sticky residue. She cranked the temperature up as high as the knob would allow her. So hot her skin started to turn a beat red shade while white steam rose in thick billowing clouds from the heat.

She scrubbed a thick lather of soap on her arm causing her cuts to sting mercilessly as she continued to wash thoroughly. The bar of soap was hard for her to hold firmly as it threatened to slip between the slick of her fingers. After her forearm was left sore and aching she moved her attack down the length of her body, scouring away at every part until it was raw. Her fingers scratched into the soft flesh around her thighs as they dipped in to scrape away between her thatch of curls, trying her best to peel back the invisible layers of grime she felt laid there.

Her father said he had left because she was an adult now. A full grown woman who didn't need her father anymore. He had told her he was trying to finish the promise he made to her long gone mother by finishing what they had started.

The heat stung at her breasts, now welted with the scorching pelts of water that poured down on her chest. Joanna caught a mouthful of the liquid fire, letting the burn rush down her throat as she gagged the rest up in sputtering coughs.

A small ticking noise from the sink caught her attention as she realized the Geiger counter on her Pipboy began to chirp quietly to life detecting the trace amounts of radiation in the misting shower.

She couldn't even enjoy the luxury of bathing for long before being sorely reminded of why Project Purity was a thing to begin with.

Stepping out of the shower, Joanna looked down to see her injuries still present. Fresh scratches from her fingers racked down the length of her body in puffy red trails. Even if the water was clean, it wouldn't take away the damage that had been done to her. She realized her father's dream would never give her back the amount of sanity she lost with her first steps into the outside world or the dignity she was robbed of in the subways. It could never cleanse away the small taste of hell she endured in the Ninth Circle. She would never be pure.

Right now, Joanna felt very much like another one of her father's abandoned projects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have already started to make changes to things around this point. James went and did the whole Vault 112 thing without having to be rescued by his daughter. One thing that you'll probably see is that he is a lot more capable in the story than in the game, more so than Joanna. So Dad really doesn't need the help from his kid this time around. Joanna is the Lone Wanderer but even that title will be discussed a bit later on... 
> 
> Anyway, I also gave Li's room a bathroom for this sections purposes. Most buildings/places I have naturally altered to fit better in the story or even just to make them more realistic down the line. 
> 
> Already started on the next chapter. Charon gets his own shower time but his thoughts are in a very different place than Joanna's. 
> 
> Hopefully I get a lot of writing done while I have some time off from work. :) 
> 
> Big thanks to people who are following along! This story is going to be pretty darn long so I'm hoping its continuing to be entertaining. :D


	18. Just Maintenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon becomes suspicious of just how much Doctor Barrows told Joanna about his particular ghoulish condition.

Charon sat on the edge of the bed starting to become uncomfortably warm as the heat from the bathroom leaked in. Steam slipped through to escape the space at the bottom of the door.

The warmth of the room was almost suffocating, causing Charon to pull at the hem of his shirt in an effort to cool off. Heat didn't sit well with him being a ghoul. Instead of sweat, the thin translucent layers of tissue that covered his muscles would thicken, creating a residue that peeled off him like a sick rind. Already he could feel a bit of the gunk sticking like putty between the crevices of his rotten body.

Charon had to wonder what the hell Joanna was doing that took so long running that much water. It's as if she was purposefully trying to take a steam bath instead of a shower.

After at least an hour of waiting, Joanna finally emerged from the tiny restroom, letting another wave of heat out with her. Her hair was damp, still dripping as short wisps collected in small ringlets on her forehead. Her plaid shirt was balled up in one of her hands along with some other damp items rolled up with it.

Joanna's skin was flushed, her cheeks were a soft pink that glistened with the mix of moisture and heat. The modest shirt clung to her wet figure, showing the soft swell of her chest pulled against the fabric. Charon felt stifled by the increasing amount of warmth trapped in his armor.

"Alright. Your turn." She said coming to sit on the opposite end of the bed.

Charon felt the mattress shift with the extra weight.

"Turn to what? I don't need to use the restroom." He stated indifferently as he pulled again at the sticking collar of his shirt.

Joanna sat with her knees tucked under herself at the head of the bed.

"You can use the shower now."

Charon leaned forward to glance into the tiny space of the washroom.

"I don't think I'll fit. I'm fine."

"You smell."

Charon huffed. "I'm a ghoul. I'll smell regardless."

The weight of the mattress shifted again. He could feel the small dip in the material behind him as Joanna leaned in close near his back.

"You smell like cheap booze." She noted sniffing lightly at the air.

He leaned forward more onto his knees. "Then stay away from me if it bothers you."

"Just go take a shower. You need to be out of your armor anyway, that's what Doctor Barrows said." Joanna tutted at him and took her place back at the head of the bed.

"Barrows doesn't know shit."

"He said you might be like this." Joanna sighed. "Take a shower. I need you to at least try to keep yourself clean while we travel. I don't want to have to order you to do it, but I will if I have to. Can you at least try to take care of your own maintenance?"

Charon shot up from his seat on the bed, back as straight as an iron rod.

"What did you say?"

Joanna seemed startled at his abruptness. “What? I just said I’d like you to try and be responsible for maintaining your health.”

Charon stood up turning to look at the girl who clung to her knees tightly on the bed. Confusion plastered over her face.

“Did Barrows tell you to say that?” He asked feeling his chest fill with some odd constricting pressure.

“No. He just told me I might need to push you to take care of yourself is all.” Her hand ran nervously through her wet hair, slicking the top back flat on her head. “And you should spend more time out of your armor. He said it would be best to let your skin breathe.”

Charon felt the heat of the room burning under his layers of clothes. Without giving her a response he hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind him.

The room was even smaller than he thought from the outside. He felt the walls closing in on him. Reaching up, he pushed his hand on the ceiling, as if to keep it away from him. Damn how he hated tight spaces like this.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, deciding that he needed to try and fulfill Joanna’s request before it became an order. Charon kept his eyes shut as he began shucking off his armor letting parts hit the ground haphazardly. His legs had a hard time maneuvering with such little floor space and his elbow kept striking the wall as he fumbled with the straps of his gear.

"Are you alright in there?" He could hear Joanna ask at the door.

Charon felt a pang in his chest again as he grumble a loud response back. "Better if you'd stop trying to talk to me."

With the large pieces of his Talon armor out of the way, he was left with only thinner layers of clothing. Removing his boots seemed to cause the most trouble for him as they were tied tightly up to his ankle.

He placed his foot on the edge of the seat of the small toilet so he could try and reach the laces without hitting his head on the sink. The steam from Joanna’s shower had made all the surfaces slicker than he had expected. As he tried to untie his first boot, his foot slipped with a squeak against the rim, landing in the toilet bowl with a splash of water, effectively soaking his boot and flooding out onto the floor.

"Fuck me." He groaned pulling his wet shoe from the bowl.

"Did you say something?" Joanna called out from nearby.

"Stop listening at the fucking door already!" Charon yelled back as he leaned onto the sink counter to try and pry his boots off with his feet instead.

He thought he could hear some apology from the other room but ignored it as he continued to work his second foot out of his other drier boot.

Now all he was left with was his shirt and loose undershorts. His hands slipped under the hem of his shirt but paused there, unable to go any further.

Groaning again, Charon placed his hands down on the tiny basin of the sink, turning the faucet on. He took a bit of the water in his ruined palms to splash onto his face. Looking up from the water, he saw his reflection in the mirror before him.

His face was a massacre. A red mess of muscle and blue veins that crossed grotesquely under his left over flaps of intact skin. The upper part of his face and forehead held more of its original shape but his jaw and neck were torn up like the bombed asphalt of DC's streets.

Charon tried his best to avoid looking at his face fully but he didn't have many places in the room left to look. His auburn hair hung in sad stringy patches that clung to his remaining scalp. He was almost afraid to touch them, thinking any part of him would just fall off if he tried.

His hands gripped the edges of the sink in a deadly vice. Damn that Barrows, he thought, what the hell did that fucking quack tell her?

Charon felt a rush of panic through him as he thought about his few conversations with Barrows in the clinic. Maintenance is what he called it. Is that what he told her to call it too?

"It's just maintenance." Charon mocked Barrows words over silently in his head.

Showering was one thing, but being told to fuck himself was a whole other thing entirely.

A thousand questions buzzed through his mind fraying at his nerves. Did she know Barrows told him to do that kind of thing? Did she suspect that's what he was doing now?

Or worse - Is that what she had meant for him to do?

His eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed the heels of his palms into his temples.

What a pain this all was. He didn't care if he smelled or if he looked like the ass end of a centaur. All that mattered was that he could put up a good fight, carry out small tasks, and protect his current contract holder. Looking good or having a functioning dick didn't have any barring towards his abilities.

Still, he looked down at his discolored shorts, it's not like he didn't want his dick staying where it was. It may not have gotten much use in his lifetime, but he would like to keep his parts all the same.

Charon sighed, running his hands along the bottom of his shirt again, this time pulling it up and off to join the rest of his items on the floor.

His torso was just as bad as the rest of him, maybe worse. He had plenty of scars from fights, bullets that had been left buried inside him, and of course, thin coverings of flesh pulled tight over the musculature of his abdomen. Most of his skin from this region was gone or so thin it became nearly as transparent as his filmy covered sections of second flesh.

Charon felt more like an anatomical model or cadaver used for scientific studies by eggheads like Joanna's father, rather than a real man.

His fingers played with the spent elastic of his shorts, toying with the well worn seam. Running his hand along the front of his crotch, he palmed at the familiar soft weight that sat there. At least he knew everything was still intact before he had to actually look at it.

Slowly, he let his hands push the material down until it collected at his feet with the rest. Before he let his eyes linger downwards, Charon pushed himself into the shower, turning on the spray of water quickly to distract himself.

The water trickled weakly from the showerhead hitting him in the chest. He found that he was indeed too tall for the shower itself, having to squat awkwardly to try and get his head under the spray. Of course the water ran colder than he would have liked, he thought, guessing Joanna had used up most of the allotment of hot water to steam herself like a damn vegetable.  

Cleaning himself was easy enough to do without having to look at his body much. He took the soap left over from Joanna's shower and lathered up his palms. He tried to use his sudsy hands to comb through the grease of his hair, tugging gently at the roots. Charon was glad to be reminded his body wasn't nearly as weak as his skin would make him appear.  

He tried to focus on the spray of the shower and the feel of his hands pressing over his body, doing his best to ignore the causes of the odd textures that played across the expanse of his chest. As he glanced down, he saw the flaccid mass between his legs looking just as mangled as the rest of him.

Charon sighed, running his fingers down the length of a long visible tendon. How the hell was he supposed to get himself off in a body like this?

The ghoul braced himself as best he could against the wall of the small shower, leaning most of his weight on one of his forearms as his other hand slid down his lower abdomen to land close to his groin.

What remained of his lips he held tightly between his teeth, biting down in concentration. It had been a long time, but he could remember the basic mechanical movements of the old song and dance. His hand moved in slowly to grab at the base of himself, pulling softly along the more delicate tissue that lay there. Charon squeezed a bit more firmly at his soft extension, trying to use the water's assistance to run the length easier.

The more he tried, the only thing that got harder was the difficulty he was having feeling anything but disgust for his monstrous appearance.

He felt stupid for even entertaining the idea that anything remotely normal was left in him. He pressed his face against his forearm on the wall, shielding his eyes from the rest of himself.

This was all Joanna's fault. If she hadn't come to Underworld he would still be in the Ninth Circle with fewer scars on his body and certainly not worried about his control over his manhood. Joanna had been nothing but trouble.

He thought about her failed attempt at stealthing back at the museum and her unloaded gun clicking away at the ravenous mutant before her. Charon snorted thinking about her trying to hit her father earlier with her weak little wrists. They had been embarrassingly easy for him to hold back. Her hands weren't meant for fighting, they were too soft and frail...and attractive.

Charon felt his heart ache at the thought of her hands, the same hands Ahzrukhal had defiled with a repugnant kiss. The white cream of her skin stretched over her slender bones like a perfect glove, his own hands looked like they had been through a grinder. If he had her smooth palms, the idea of stroking himself wouldn't be nearly as revolting and wouldn't feel as abrasive as his own.

He imagined her delicate wrists and her slight hand coming to grasp at himself instead of his own abhorrent ones. Charon could feel his heart thud a deep rhythm, the sound reaching his ears as his hand stroked down the length of himself. This time he could feel his cock stir to life under his ministrations, but only barely. The pulse he felt collect at his groin fluttered like the fast wings of a hummingbird. He licked at his lips trying to chase the fleeting beat.

Joanna's hands he pictured became more vivid as he worked, coaxing his small spark to ignite into a whisper of flame in his hands. He could feel himself becoming stiffer under her imaginary touch, but still only barely at half mast.

Charon needed more than just a smooth set of hands to focus on. He pictured the softness of Joanna's face, her skin flushing from the shared heat of the shower. Those eyes of hers staring at him, innocent and bashful with inexperience and fresh youth. His thumb ran across the sensitive tip of what remained of his cock, using the aid of the water to glide around the responsive rim, and down to run across one of his more prominent veins. He allowed himself a small groan of pleasure at the thought of her asking for permission to continue, and mouthed his affirmative response against the crook of his arm.

"Were you thinking about being buried in that smoothskin cunt, Charon?"

His concentration shattered around the wheezing voice that mocked him in his head, poking a searing finger of green light into his shoulder that blistered his skin anew with accusations. "You even remember what it looks like?"

Charon's passion had been doused quickly as he recoiled his hand shamefully, his flaccid state sadly hanging between his legs to mock him further.

Doctor Barrows was full of shit. Nothing good could come of this. Besides, he had at least proven to himself that he had some feeling left in that particular spot, even if he hadn't become fully erect.

Things between him and his employer didn't need to be complicated with feelings of any sort. Charon hated that he even chose to think of her. It could have been anyone with smooth skin, it didn't matter. It could have been anyone.

But it wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super looking forward for when I get more chances to write chapters like this. 
> 
> Thankfully, I still have time off to try and get more done! :)   
> Hope the work has been good to people so far and continues to be! 
> 
> From here on out, Charon will now at least be more aware of Joanna's physical attributes...maybe more aware than he would like to be.


	19. Let Sleeping Ghouls Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Joanna turn in for the night.

Charon exited the tiny bathroom carrying all his armor precariously in his hands. He kept on his pants and shirt, even taking the effort to pull his boots back on before he came back into the bedroom. Joanna sat cross-legged on the bed flipping through her Pipboy to turn the radio to GNR.

It had cooled significantly in the room after his time in the shower. Joanna's shirt still clung to her damp body, drawing tight across her rounded chest. Charon could see goose bumps spread over her arm, causing her smooth skin to pebble. The chill of the air turned her nipples to small peaks, tenting the fabric of her shirt slightly.

Charon cast his eyes down, berating himself for his observation and disrespectful behavior towards his employer. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, wondering if she was aware of what had transpired during his time in the bathroom. If she had any idea, she was being awfully polite ignoring it.

Ahzrukhal would have teased him mercilessly, past employers possibly coming up with some punishment that worked around the confides of his contract. He couldn't blame her if she tried, knowing full well most humans would have half a mind to punch a ghoul square in the face for even displaying any left over sexuality. Being shunned as a zombie was already enough of a burden without being labeled as a pervert as well. At his age with his condition, he shouldn't even think twice about the subject.

Instead of sitting down on the edge of the bed, Charon decided to pull out the chair that sat by the computer terminal in the corner. He let his armor sit nearby on the ground, folding his arms across his chest as he tried his best to conceal his own body from her.

He wished he could just put his armor back on, but he knew she would just tell him to keep it off for the night, quoting Barrows advice again. The ghoul just didn't like how exposed he felt without it, especially in Joanna's presence.

Charon risked glancing over to the bed, catching Joanna's eyes staring back. Something about the way the kid looked at him made him squirm uncomfortably.

\-----

Joanna had heard Charon banging around in the bathroom, guessing he had as hard a time taking his armor off in the tiny washroom as she had, probably worse with his cumbersome size. In hindsight, she should have left Li's room entirely so he could have more privacy and space.

When he finally came out, she couldn't help but stare at him, she had never seen him out of his armor before. Normally, she was frightened by his foreboding figure, feeling threatened by his authoritative stance. But now the lanky ghoul sat curled into himself on the chair, wearing plain clothes that made him look oddly soft.

Charon appeared very much like any other ghoul she came across in her travels, or really, any other person. Part of that made her feel more at ease in his presence, but another part made her feel guilty about her power over his contractual servitude. When he was geared up it was easy to view him as little more than a protectron with an attitude.

Joanna felt her hands begin to sweat with her increasing nerves.

Honestly, she knew next to nothing about Charon personally. In many senses he was still a stranger to her, and she to him. The hour was drawing late and they had travelled a long distance on little rest. Exhaustion seeped into her bones as the radio quietly played in the background. Even in her relaxed state she could feel her pulse speed up over the realization of her current situation. She was about to really spend the night alone with Charon, a stranger, for the first time. Not just any stranger either, a ghoul, and more importantly, a man.

The vault girl could feel her chest tighten over the conflicting thoughts swimming in her head. The bed was large enough to share, although she expected he wouldn't want to be near her. He never seemed to like contact with anybody.

Her mind wandered to the conversation she had with Nurse Graves a few days back, remembering how she said he didn't allow anyone to touch him but Barrows. Not that she wanted to touch him, recalling how Ahzurkhal's sticky flesh stuck to her chest in its active decay. A chill ran up her spine as her empty stomach churned sickly.

Joanna adjusted herself on the bed, scooching back toward the headboard to bury her legs underneath the thick comforter that draped over the bed.

"Are you ready to sleep Charon?" She called over to him, patting the empty space beside her even though the ghouls eyes were off somewhere else.

"I'm fine." Joanna could hear him mumble as he shrunk further into his chair.

"You need to sleep. I don't think I've seen you sleep once since we've travelled together."

Charon shrugged, turning on his chair to slightly face more of the wall.

"You need sleep." She nagged at him again, becoming annoyed at his silent shoulder.

Nothing but silence answered her.

"Charon, come over here so we can sleep." Joanna called to him once more.

"I'll sleep here." He grumbled back from his corner.

Joanna rolled her eyes not in the mood to argue with him.

"Charon. Get in bed so we can sleep. That's an order."

A low groaning sigh escaped the ghoul as he stood. Charon shuffled slowly over to the bedside, arms still crossed across his chest, eyes straining to look anywhere but in her direction.

The ghoul lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, back turned to her.

"Lay down."

Another annoyed grumble could be heard as he laid himself on his side, keeping his back to her and as balanced on the edge as possible without falling off.

Joanna sighed, laying her head down on the pillows. She could see Charon's booted feet hanging off the end of the bed, Charon himself laying on top of the sheets.

"You know you can make yourself more comfortable. I don't mind." She suggested to his turned back, seeing the muscles of his shoulders pull tense under the sheerness of his thin shirt.

"Then let me sleep in the chair." Charon muttered into the side of his own pillow.

Joanna rolled her eyes. "That's not comfortable."

"Neither is this."

Joanna sat up, pulling her pillow out from under her, and brought it up to smack at his shoulder.

"What the fuck?" The ghoul exclaimed swatting at the soft  mound of feathers she continued to tap him with. "Knock it off."

"Why do you hate me so much? Can't you even just sleep in the same bed without acting like I'm diseased?" Joanna asked, continuing to fwap the pillow against his batting palm.

Charon propped himself up, snatching the pillow from her hands to fling across the room to the floor.

"I don't hate you." He sighed, turning again to lay down. "Just the stupid shit you do."

Joanna felt her cheeks flush crimson. "I don't do stupid shit."

"Right." Charon gave a small snorting chuckle. "You never do stupid shit. How long do you think we will be permitted to stay tonight before that Rivet City prick shows up to give us the boot?"

"We won't be getting kicked off the ship." She argued at his back. "Besides, if Harkness shows up I can deal with him easily enough. Unlike you, I do fairly well with people."

Charon made a low hum, continuing to ignore her.

Joanna wanted to talk to him more but couldn't think of anything that would get him to open up at least a crack. During her moment of hesitation her ears picked her name out of the background noise the radio provided. She cocked her head towards her Pipboy, listening harder with a renewed interest.

_"That's right folks - Joanna, our very own wasteland hero, has herself a new companion."_

Three Dog's voice rang smoothly over the airwaves, prompting Joanna to turn the volume up to hear what he had to say about her.

_"And get this - the guys a ghoul. A big one at that. Now the kid may not wear her blue jumpsuit anymore, but you'll definitely spot her bodyguard from a mile away."_

Charon now rose to prop himself back up to listen in, obviously curious over the broadcast.

_"Now you know children, ol' Three Dog can stretch the truth here and there, but he ain't lyin' about this. This ghoul, Charon, is as tall as a super mutant with just about as much charm..."_

Joanna laughed a little at the insult despite Charon's growl of annoyance.

_"But these two are still out there fighting the good fight, and Three Dog's going to tell you cats allllll about it in our brand new segment: The intrepid adventures of Joanna - the vault kid - and her ghoulish manservant Charon! It's all coming soon, to a radio near you. Now, back to the music."_

Joanna's mouth fell agape at the end of Three Dog's announcement. She looked to see Charon's own face scrunched into an unamused scowl.

"I'm no one's manservant." He spat.

Joanna clicked the radio off, placing her Pipboy to the side.

"Three Dog's just joking."

"I'm not laughing." Charon snapped, laying down on his back with his arms crossed to stare at the ceiling.

Joanna snuggled down under the blankets nearly an arms distance out from the ghoul. She turned her head over on the pillow looking at his stern expression from the side.

"Let's just go to bed already." She said as she turned to flick the lantern in the room off. Her Pipboy screen kept the room from being cast into total blackness.

\------

Joanna had a hard time trying to sleep as she kept remembering the day's events. Most of the night she tossed and turned trying to allow herself to give in to the comfort of the luxurious mattress and warm clean sheets.

Despite her best efforts, she just couldn't sleep more than a handful of minutes at a time.

Bored and agitated, she turned to look at her companion, startled to see him much closer, his own side facing her with eyes wide open.

Joanna's heart leapt. Had he been watching her this whole time?

Their faces were only a few inches apart. She could feel his breath hit her lightly, smelling like the dampness in Underworld, nowhere near the stench of bitter unpleasantness from Ahzrukhal's chem rotted teeth.

Why didn't he pull away?

For a moment, her lips parted to say something at the staring ghoul, but she closed them as Charon's eyes only continued to stare at her, unblinking.

"Charon?" she whispered softly, barely mouthing out the sound.

The ghoul didn't move, his eyes stayed firmly affixed to her.

Joanna wriggled her hands free from her covers, waving one lightly in front of his face. His eyes still didn't move. She pulled her hand back, realizing with a small degree of awe, that he was asleep.

Did all ghouls sleep with their eyes open?

Regardless of the answer, she took advantage of her position to get a closer inspection of his face.

The muscles of his neck pulled taught as he breathed shallowly. The copper strands of his drying hair feathered the top of his head and pillow, looking much cleaner than before. She could smell the bathroom soap on him with an earthy underlying sweetness cutting through the chemical fragrance. The ghouls face was somehow more muscular looking than any other ghoul she had seen.  

Charon didn't smell anything like Ahzrukhal, didn't even look much like Ahzrukhal, as Ahzurkhal's face had been all green rotting skin, coarse patches of hair, and sagging fat. Joanna wondered if his skin felt different than his late employer. He didn't have any wet sheen to his face or hands like Ahzrukhal did. She wondered if he was sticky at all to the touch.

Curiosity bit deep at her as she contemplated the appropriateness of her newfound desire to reach out and touch the ghoul that laid before her. She thought about the outstretched hand of the black winding statue at the heart of Underworld, how the twisted figure beckoned for her touch.

Joanna found her hand snaking out from under the comforter, once more hovering inches from the ghouls stone cold face. Her fingers twitched, one by one in the air, creeping forward towards his cheek.

The girl let her hand stop just before his face, marveling at her own boldness. The tension between the sliver of space she left felt like small sparks across the pads of her fingertips. She gulped hard as she felt a new wave of unexpected anxiety consume her, causing her heart to pause with cold fear at her daring action.

Suddenly, Charon's eyes flicked a hairs breadth to the side.

Before she could pull away, his hand immediately shot up to grasp hers in a crushing hold.

Joanna gasped loudly in shock.  

\-----

Charon squeezed a hand in his own, pulling a sharp girlish gasp from an unrecognizable figure.

He could see blurry shapes forming into parts of a womanly face before him. A bleary waver of light stretched over the curving shape of a mysterious woman.

The ghoul loosened his grip from her wrist, but the girl didn't move away. Charon let his fingers run to cup her whole slender hand in his own, still not fully awake from his sleeping daze. The world seemed hazy in his dry eyes, the soft glow of the room too eerie and atmospheric to be real. He couldn't quite make out the identity of the girl, as her features passed in and out of focus, but her hand vaguely resembled Joanna's.

The mattress dipped low between the two, bringing her body closer, her covered legs brushing against him.

He hummed a low sigh of contentment as he pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. His dream was pleasantly vivid as he felt the supple smoothness far surpass his imagination from earlier.

A small squeaking sigh left the girls lips instead of the shrill scream he knew she would make if the situation were real. Charon dragged the faceless girls hand down the side of his torn cheek, guiding it down his throat. Her digits began working freely of her own accord, tickling his exposed nerves as they came to land near his Adam's apple, caressing lightly at the skin that remained. He hummed deep in groggy approval once more.

Charon felt his cock begin to pound with a pulse of its own in the dark heat of his dream, much stronger than the fleeting fluttering in the shower before.

His head felt empty in his relaxation, allowing his desires to run more freely in his mind's eye. He took hold of her hand once more to press firmly down his chest, guiding it towards the ache that quickly built in him.

Suddenly, her hand ripped out of his own, coming to land across his face with a stinging slap echoing off the walls.

Charon shot up in bed, torn from his dream as he cupped the side of his jaw where his face stung hotly. The blow to his pride being an all too real nightmare.

"What's your problem?" Joanna snapped, coming to rise out of the bed as quickly as he had.

Charon rubbed his hands on his tired eyes, feeling like he was scratching them with sandpaper.

"Nothing. Just had a nightmare I guess." He grumbled. Joanna looked at him crossly, obviously distraught. "What the fuck's your problem? Go back to sleep." He huffed turning his back to the fuming girl.

He'd apologize for waking her up later, right now he wanted to try and chase the tail end of the dream he had before he was so rudely awakened by what he could only guess was a manifestation of subconscious guilt.

Charon scooted away from the girl, annoyed by her closeness. That's probably why he was having such dreams, she really needed to stay on her side of the bed.


	20. Intentions and Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna has a hard time sleeping and Charon is visited by someone unexpected.

Joanna couldn't get back to sleep after Charon rolled over. Her heart raced in her confusion and shock.

He had pressed her hand so purposefully to his face, allowing her to grace the expanse of his ruined countenance. Charon wasn't sticky or slick with rot like Ahzrukhal, but drier and taught, with thin pliable flesh that stretched over irregular planes like the skin of a sun warmed mutfruit.

She had been stunned that he didn't push her away or yell at her over the intrusiveness of her familiarity, but she had been even more stunned as he ran her hand down to...

Joanna clapped her hands to her burning face, cupping her cheeks between clammy palms. She had to get over it. Obviously, Charon had been asleep as his reaction upon waking didn't show any signs of realization or remorse. There was no use in dwelling on the intention of the gesture.  

Joanna dared to look back at Charon through the glow of the Pipboy screen. He laid on his back now, eyes still half open, but not nearly as wide as before. The ghoul laid motionless in his restful trance.  

The girl sighed, running her hands down her face to cover the heat that spread to her neck. Charon probably instinctually grabbed her hand, nothing more but an overblown sleep twitch.

Joanna continued to wallow in self doubt until she wasn't even sure she hadn't just dreamt the whole thing up. The more she thought about it, the more impossible the situation became. How could she be so stupid?

With her nerves eating away at her conscious, Joanna rose from the bed, trying her best not to disturb the ghoul that laid stiff as a board over the comforter.

Creeping her way over to the chair by the terminal, the cold metal of the ship nipped at her toes. She sat down in the uncomfortable seat, the cushion letting out a soft sigh of air from under her weight as she curled up to rest.

\------

Charon woke groggily, feeling disoriented by the darkness in the room. His eyes were sore and watered as he blinked dry lids to bat away the discomfort. Slowly, grey shapes and blurry lines became crisp with his correcting vision, falling to the side of himself in search of his employers shape.

Only emptiness and rumpled sheets laid next to the confused ghoul.

Panic quickly struck through his heart as he grabbed for the still fuzzy looking Pipboy that dimly lit the nightstand.

With his impaired sight, he fumbled with the device but still managed to click the light on easily enough.

The light glow of the screen turned into a bright beam that reached over most of the room. With the higher powered light on, Charon could make out the slumped over figure that sat propped up partially in the neighboring chair.

Charon sighed, looking through the Pipboy to show the time since there was no clear indication in the small windowless interior of the ship. Hours had passed and the girl still looked fatigued as she softly snored from her new spot across from the bed. He knew she wouldn't be comfortable sharing a bed with a damn ghoul. Why the hell didn't she just let him sleep there to begin with?

The ghoul crossed the floor to shake the vualtie's shoulder slightly. She stirred a bit but otherwise remained dead weight on her seat. Moving her too much would only rouse her.

Turning to the bed, Charon ripped the sheets from the mattress to wrap the girl securely in place. He stepped over to his armor, taking the unobserved moment to buckle everything back . Even if she had been too perturbed by his presence in bed to sleep near, Charon had to admit he had slept better than he could remember. His eyes might still be stinging but he felt well rested.

As time passed, he flipped through her Pipboy absentmindedly, taking note of some of the messages she kept stored inside. No doubt she would be swatting meekly at him if she caught his prying eyes perusing so casually through her belongings, but he was slightly curious about Joanna's travels beyond the vault. This was easier than trying to talk to her at least.

There were several locations marked with titles and names that meant nothing to him. Several entries were of her own writing, personal accounts on events and people she encountered. Some pages were even tallies of caps she had spent and items she had stocked in her pack. Charon hummed thoughtfully at the thoroughness of her bookkeeping, but was mostly interested over a little icon on her map labeled 'home'.

Before Charon could dig any further, a small knock echoed lightly at the door. He quickly opened it, stepping carefully through the slender crack as not to disturb the sleeping girl. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her foolishly, only to have to travel through the DC ruins with an exhausted Joanna.

On the other side of the door, James stood holding a bag in his hands. A small look of surprise crossed his face, but otherwise disappeared behind his cool facade. Charon groaned in annoyance at the uncanniness between him and his employer. One Joanna was enough, an older more egotistical version wasn't appealing to him in the slightest.

James awkwardly looked at the ghoul in front of him, clearing his throat.

"Hello again Charon. Is Joanna around?"

Charon nodded, grumbling under his breath.

"May I see her?"

"No."

The man in the jumpsuit furrowed his brow, visibly tensing at the short dismissal.

"And why is that?"

"Still asleep."

James sighed looking the ghoul in the face once more.

"Joanna said you were her body guard, is that right?"

Charon only nodded.

"Then maybe we could speak instead. Man to man. How about over a drink?"

Charon turned towards the door once more, peering into the dark room to hear Joanna's even breathing from her corner. He shook his head.

"I should not leave my employers side."

James smiled, reaching out to touch his armored shoulder.

"Surely you can be gone for just a moment? Joanna and you will need supplies for your travels." He jostled Charon, all too fondly for the ghouls liking. "And besides, you two can't head out on empty stomachs. Just a quick trip down the hall to the market."

Charon still hesitated. He had no standing orders that really conflicted with him leaving and he was hungry from their travels. All their provisions were mostly Pre-War packaged crap he could barely taste, like the rubbery balls of deviled eggs that still retained their slick membranes despite the years. He wouldn't mind having something fresh to eat for once, even if it was just broiled mirelurk slop.

"Joanna is safe here in Rivet City. I spoke to Harkness about the situation earlier. There's no need to worry." James pressed.

"Didn't you say the same thing about leaving her in the damn vault?" Charon growled, starting to become irritated at her father's attempts at persuasion.

James' expression turned grey, sorrow drew across the aged lines of his face, hardening the man before Charon.

"I am a big enough man to admit there is truth to that..." James spoke as his eyes drifted in thought. "and I am also a big enough man to admit that I am very small...which is exactly why I left. Project Purity was so much bigger than either of us. This could change everything for our world - our way of life. Every father wants to hand the world to their child, to give them the best of everything and every opportunity to thrive. Project Purity is a step closer to handing that world back to everybody, including Joanna. Is it so wrong that I chose to sacrifice individual happiness, not just for my child but for myself, if it meant that we could hand the next generation a world we could finally be proud of?"

Charon ran a hand down the length of his ruined face, pulling the soft skin there with a groan.

"I really _really_ don't give a shit."

James straightened, chuckling as he rubbed at his tired looking eyes.

"I apologize. Sometimes I forget myself and get carried away..." James shifted the awkward bundle in his hands again. "I had some items for Joanna I wanted to give her before she left. Mostly caps I squirreled away for emergencies, hidden around in a few places back at the Memorial. Maybe she could put them to better use than me. You know when she was younger I used to-"

"Did you still want to grab a drink?" Charon interrupted James' reminiscing abruptly.

"Yes."

"Alright, let's go." Charon took off down the hall towards the market place with speed.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" James asked trying to stay in pace with the ghouls long strides.

"If you're gonna try and talk the rest of my ear off, I may as well do something useful and get us some damn food."

James smiled, chuckling again. "Is that really all it took for you to abandon your post?"

Charon stopped, turning to James with narrowed eyes and a foreboding scowl. " **I** don't abandon anything." He held up his hand, letting his fingers splay in front of the human's face. "Five minutes. You have five minutes with me while I get her something to eat. Make it count."

Charon chuffed. This man really was Joanna's father. Just as manipulative and just as long-windedly annoying.

\-----

It was early and the marketplace was still wearily rising to life. The few venders that moseyed about worked in relative silence setting up their respective stalls for the days business. The large ghoul and James turned a few heads, making many of the weary faces perk with curiosity as they rounded the corner to approach Gary's Galley.

The shop owner gaped open mouthed at the tall ghoul before stuttering out apologies, shakily running through the menu for the two unusual men. James seemed to calm the owner's nerves, even getting them a lower price on the Galley's specials. Charon only rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the honeyed words that poured from the ex-vault dweller's mouth. If he didn't shut it soon, Charon half expected bloatflies to start falling into the sticky trap of pleasantries.

As they waited for their orders, James began peppering Charon with all kinds of questions. About his contract, where he was from, and what his intentions were with Joanna.

"I intend to protect her. Until she sells my contract off...or dies." The ghoul shrugged. "That's more than you even need to know."

"But a contract? Why?" James again urged him to answer. "Joanna said you are not a slave, but then what is this contract?"

Charon groaned again, feeling tired of repeating himself. "I am honor bound to do as she commands, so long as her requests are within a degree of reason and pose no threat to her life or my own outright."

"So you do as she commands? How are you not a slave?"

"Because I am here, talking to you. I chose to tell you this much and I am choosing to tell you no more. You are not my contract holder and I am in no amount of debt to you. So fuck off now...please."

James shook his head, still admitting he was uncertain of the whole affair.

"I just had one other thing I wanted to ask you, or I suppose, ask of you - if you wouldn't mind hearing me out for a moment longer." James pleaded, sounding a bit desperate.

Begrudgingly, Charon agreed with a low grunt.

"I know it's not my place to meddle in my daughter's personal life, especially seeing as how I had removed myself from it entirely after the vault." James bit his lip, obviously straining to form the right words. "But I just wanted to know if you and her...well...I suppose I just wanted to know that you wouldn't harm her in any way." A bit of pink tinged James' cheeks as his words seemed to catch in his throat. "Emotionally or physically or..." he trailed off in his suggestion.

"You want to know if I fucked your daughter?" Charon bluntly scoffed.

Only an awkward silence followed in answer.

"No, you don't have to worry about that. " Charon thought briefly back to his embarrassing thoughts in the shower before, and the phantom hand that ghosted over him in his sleep, so much resembling Joanna's lithe fingers. "I wouldn't dream of laying a hand on her."

He lied.

"I'm glad my daughter is traveling with someone like you."

Charon smirked. He was lying too.

\------

Joanna smelled something fragrant in the air. The scent was warm and welcoming, reminiscent of some of the baked concoctions Old Lady Palmer used to cook up on special occasions, often trading her ration tickets for additives and spices.

With a long yawning stretch, Joanna woke to find herself warmly bundled in a nest of blankets still sitting in the chair from last night. She made a small noise of discomfort as a twinge of stiffness shot up her back, most likely due to her unusual sleeping position. Charon sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her with his brow knitted together.

"Next time, let me sleep in the damn chair." His voice rumbled out in irritation.

The ghoul held out a small plate filled with breaded lumps that steamed in the cool air. Greedily, she grabbed at one of the warm cakes, bringing the fresh food reverently to her mouth with a groan of satisfaction. The taste was slightly fishy but a sweetness underplayed the shreds of meat rolled in the crumbling coating of mixed dry feed. Feeling her teeth sink into hot food felt nearly overwhelming enough to distract her from her bodyguard's stern face.

Charon watched her closely, his eyes flitting about to scan across her as she licked at her fingers. He seemed more focused on her today for some reason. She began feeling self conscious over the newfound attention. Her chest remained unbound and her hair stuck out all over in unkempt disarray. Joanna at least felt grateful for the food as it helped to rid her mouth of the foul taste of stale sleep. Still, she knew Charon wasn't staring at a very pretty picture.

She felt herself blushing at the realization over her less than stellar looks.

From the way he looked at her she swore that maybe her recollection of last night wasn't as flawed as she kept talking herself into. Was she just reading too much into things? Back in the museum she could barely register a trace of emotion across Charon's face. Now, was she just projecting things onto him as they went as she would a familiar dog?

She swallowed the last of her portion of food under the scrutinizing gaze of her silent companion. Joanna took up her Pipboy, brushing the crumbs from her mouth and grease from her fingers onto Li's pristine blankets.

"Well, I think I'm done here for now. I got a few errands I've promised to do but honestly I just want to go home for awhile." She fiddeled with a few dials to set their next stop in her map.

"Where is home? The vault?" Charon asked.

Joanna shook her head. "Not anymore. I have a place in Megaton or, I guess - we have a place in Megaton." She smiled feeling good to be traveling home with someone, even if that someone wasn't her father like she had planned.

"If that is what you wish, I shall follow." Charon said, extending a hand out to help her balance as she tried to stand on numb feet.

She accepted the gesture, feeling a rush of heat rise to her face as his large ghoulish hand encapsulated her own. Joanna's heart leapt wondering briefly if he was going to use this moment like last night, aiding in instructing her hand to travel the paths he laid out for her with his unspoken permission.

Instead, Charon unceremoniously dropped her hand as soon as she stood solidly enough, pulling away from her quickly after. Joanna felt a pang of rejection reach through her as he recoiled so abruptly from her touch.

Why did she care if last night was all just a made up moment in her sleep deprived head? What did it matter? For some reason she felt nothing but disappointment swell in her chest like a lead balloon.

What had she been expecting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to really add a note to the last chapter. Still working on the next one where we will be getting back to more action and awkwardness between the tiny budding relationship of Joanna and Charon. 
> 
> Charon, as mentioned before, has odd sleeping patterns that will come to play later on as well. The last chapter kind of showcasing a pretty minor episode of confusional arousal brought on by his parasomnia. 
> 
> Anyway, bye James. We're going to Megaton. Call if you need something. Or don't. You seem to like keeping people guessing. 
> 
> More coming as soon as I can write it down. :)


	21. Lucky Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Joanna depart Rivet City only to find a trader in an unlucky situation.

Joanna took little time gathering her things to depart Rivet City. Charon watched her fumble through her morning routine, stumbling to gather her small pile of clothes and armor from the corner where she threw them last night.

With Joanna fully strapped back in dull leathers again, Charon found himself less distracted by the softness of her curving figure than he was the night before. He almost wished she would throw the ghoul mask back on too, that way he wouldn't be met with the guilt of his own reflection in her eyes.  

Charon noticed the girl glancing at him pointedly while she packed. Part of him wondered again as to how much Doctor Barrows had told her and to how much she suspected of his personal thoughts. He didn't like feeling like the girl was getting into his head, but she was, and he felt that she must know it.

What a pain in the ass.

The tall ghoul felt a cool sense of relief exiting Doctor Li's bedroom, as if the heat that Joanna had trapped in the room from her shower had never fully dissipated.

The vault girl led the both of them down the narrow corridors to reach the long platform they had crossed over upon first entering the waylaid aircraft carrier. Joanna moved quickly down the walkway, much less hesitant than before. Charon could see her playing with one of the straps that kept the weathered looking sniper rifle holstered to her back.

"You ever going to fix that?" Charon asked as he followed behind her towards the steps on the opposite platform.

Joanna glanced over her shoulder to look back at him quizzically. "Fix what?"

Charon grabbed at the butt of the gun on her back, wiggling the strapped piece against her.

Joanna shrugged. "It's too expensive to fix right now. Even Winthrop's price was too high. Besides," she adjusted the leather strung around her again, "I don't know if it's even worth it."

"Why don't you just ask me to fix it?"

Joanna looked back fully at him, brows up in surprise. "You can do that?"

"Yes."

Her face scrunched in mild annoyance. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Why didn't you ask me?" He replied.

"Because I didn't think you could do that." She huffed a small sigh. "How am I supposed to know what you can and can't do?"

"Ask."

Joanna scoffed lightly. "Alright then. What can you do?"

Charon shrugged. "A lot."

"Well that's a vague answer." Joanna bemoaned, crossing her arms.

"It was a vague question."

The girl's still bruised lips curled into a smirk. Before she could open her mouth to make what he was sure would be a witty retort, a deep vocalized moo bellowed from below the stairs they stood on, followed by a few indiscernible shouts.

Charon felt the stairs tremble. Joanna seemed to lose balance on her clumsy feet as the vibrations shook through the metal harder as the shouts and mooing rose in frequency. The ghoul reached out, grabbing the rifle strapped to the girls back, pulling her towards him hard to keep her upright before she went tumbling down the stairs.

After righting Joanna's stance, the pair bounded down the last steps quickly. The two rounded the staircase only to see a large two headed bovine around the corner surrounded by two armed guards and a man in a bright yellow jumper.

The mutant brahmin kicked as wildly as its bulk would allow, sending the weight of the pack from its back teetering from side to side, threatening to fall off entirely. The two guards tried siding the beast, waving hands and trying to pull at the reins that bound it's neck and chest, tethering the animal to one of the base supports of the stairs. One of the guards had their arm looped into a loose buckle that strapped some of the bags to the brahmin. As the animal continued its frenzy, the guard's arm was caught in the ropes, knocking him off his feet, only to have the rest of him dangle uselessly from the sling his arm was now trapped in.

The rope that held the animal strained against the stairs support beam, cutting into the thick neck of the brahmin, causing the metal to groan. More bellowing moos tore through the animal as the yellow clad man pulled a long metallic rod from his hip, shouting his own verbal warning over the frantic harmony of mooing bovine heads.

Charon gripped Joanna's shoulder firmly, pulling her back into him protectively in case the animal's bindings snapped. From their position, he could see blue sparks streak across the coiled metal tip of the rod the man brandished in his hand.

A buzz of thrumming electricity ran through the length of the weapon. The yellow jumpsuit wearing man brought the rod down on the brahmin, making its hide twitch, spasming under the open current of electricity. The animal mooed loudly again as the prod poked deeper into its flesh, sparking enough to let out snaps of crackling heat. The large animal tensed and fell to the ground, being knocked off its hooves from the shock that ran through its body. After a few seconds the man with the baton backed away from the downed brahmin. Drool spilled from one of the open mouths of the dazed bovine heads.

The smell of burnt hair and brahmin shit hung heavy in the air as the scene quieted down, leaving the mutant animal stunned on the ground next to the fallen guard. Although the brahmin laid quietly, the guard next to him continued to writhe in pain. Joanna seemed to stay tense under Charon's grasp as the man with the prod turned to look at them.

"Caught us at a bit of a bad time traveler." The man said walking closer to the pair.

As he got nearer, Charon could see the Red Racer logo on his jumpsuit and the rough cracking skin of his hands that laid unarmed. His dark complexion showed spots of sun damage and crinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth as he smiled warmly at them, no doubt his travels in the wastes aged him poorly. Although he sported weapons of high caliber on his person, Charon doubted the man had reflexes fast enough to unholster a single one before he could snap a few of his bones. In other words, he wasn't a threat.

"What the hell happened here?" Joanna asked, now pulling away from Charon to walk towards the stranger.

"Mirelurks, or I guess baby mirelurks." The man chuckled, pointing down towards a damp patch of ground where several small crustaceans laid still, blood spackling the shiny pale shells. "They spook the hell out of Emma Grace, my pack brahmin. Damn old thing's gonna have a heart attack over a molerat's shadow."

"Pack brahmin? You a trader then?" Joanna inquired as she began creeping her way over towards the animal, much to Charon's annoyance. Leave it to her to get invested in something that was none of her damn business.

"Hell yeah I'm a trader. This is my caravan. I'm Lucky Harith. I specialize in bringing all sorts of new varieties of hot death to the wasteland. And from the looks of it," Lucky eyed the girls exposed rifle, "You could use an upgrade."

The second guard helped the other one up behind them. The injured guard had a shortly cropped buzz cut and held his arm gingerly to the side, still yelping about the pain.

Lucky huffed as the man came babbling over to his side.

"Boss, I think ahh," he winced in pain, "I think it's broke. It hurts like a sonofabitch."

Lucky sighed. "Damn it. I don't want to pay a doctor to see your useless ass. Jam a damn stim in it."

"I did! I did! But ooph," he continued to pant, "It hurts boss."

Joanna looked back over to Charon, her face appearing concerned before asking, "Charon, is this something you can fix?"

Everyone's eyes now glanced in his direction.

He paused, not liking the sudden attention, before grumbling out a response."Maybe. Let me see."

It was true he had some minor medical training, just enough for healing small field wounds really, but he supposed it might be enough. The guard swallowed hard staring up at the tall ghoul before him. Charon could taste the fear off him even through the heavy scent of brahmin shit.

His shoulder was dislocated, which was definitely something he could fix. The ghoul grabbed the man's arm, causing a whimper from him.

Charon smirked, he could make this a lot easier for him and try to relax the man, but he also could just be done with it quickly. Without warning, he pulled the man's arm out by the wrist, taking the upper portion in hand and snapped it up forcefully into the socket, bringing the man's forearm back into himself with a twist. A sick pop could just barely be heard over the guards shrill scream.

Charon stood, probably looking a little too pleased with himself, but he didn't care. The guard's shoulder was back in place and that's all that really mattered in the end. The guard still had tears streaming down  the inflamed pink of his cheeks, but his complaining subsided after a few minutes.

Charon looked to Joanna only to see her face beaming back at him, a smile plastered on that seemed almost proud. It made the ghoul feel uncomfortable causing him to drop his own smug smirk. There was nothing he did that should make her that happy looking, she shouldn't be pleased with his actions.

"Well great. Now you're still too useless to hold a gun proper. I got too much heat here to be travelling to Megaton one guard short!" Lucky kicked at the dirt, cursing his misfortune.

Charon saw Joanna's head perk up at his words.

"Megaton? You're heading to Megaton?" Joanna asked watching Lucky nodding. "Take us with. Charon is the best guard you'll ever find. If you let us travel to Megaton with you, he can replace your man tenfold."

Charon groaned, pulling her back a little towards himself. "Mistress, you'd be making us a bigger target if we travel with them. On our own we -"

Joanna shushed him, cutting him off from speaking any further.

The ghoul grunted in frustration. Why wouldn't the kid just listen for once?

"And what are you expecting from us if I accept? I assume you ain't just coming along working for free." Lucky asked suspiciously towards the vault girl.

"Give us 200 caps and a weapon for Charon."

"200? You gotta be outta your god dang mind." Lucky eyed Charon up and down before glancing back at his crew. He sighed. "I'll give you 50 caps and I'll give him one of my better pieces. How's that?"

Joanna nodded, watching Lucky go to fish around in one of the many bags the pack brahmin held on its back. He came back over with a combat shotgun, one that looked in better condition than any Charon could remember seeing before.

Charon took the weapon, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He had to admit, he felt a bit more confident wielding the familiar firearm. The ghoul looked back at his employer, who still smiled coyly up at him.

Even with a new shotgun in his hands, Charon felt disarmed by her presence. He wanted to continue to argue in defense of his position against their current deal, but she obviously had made up her mind. It seemed she often was too eager to go with her gut, only landing them in trouble due to her lack of forethought. She seemed to think her plans were more clever than they really were. This was one of her most unattractive qualities.

Charon glanced back at her as she combed one of her clean hands through her hair, causing his pulse to flutter in his stomach and travel down fleetingly.

 He wished the rest of her was as unattractive.

Charon decided to keep his mouth shut and follow her orders. He was not looking forward to the journey that laid ahead, especially if that journey put him behind a stinking brahmin for most of it. At least, he thought, his dubious circulation issues weren't going to be at the forefront of his mind while traveling the ruins of DC. Honestly, he was thankful for the distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaahhh. This last week I was so busy I didn't have much time to write. But I should be able to get more done this weekend...
> 
> On top of all my work my poor little bunny, Pip, got spayed this past week. So I've been watching her close cause she has a hurty belly :( poor baby bun
> 
> This chapter is shorter than I meant it to be since i'm breaking up the second portion into its own chapter, but I'm excited for the character/situation it will bring in before Megaton :)
> 
> Thanks for continuing following along :) I'm real excited to get more time for this. I like sitting and working on it and I have a lot of bits I want to get to between Joanna and Charon


	22. Caught in a Fishy Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelling to Megaton doesn't go smoothly for Charon and Joanna.

Charon stared absentmindedly at the swinging sack of bulbous flesh that made up Emma Grace's mutated udders. Fat veins pulsed throughout the engorged hairless pouch, running down to branch out across the underbelly of the stinking brahmin. From his position behind, he could see a long line of crinkled flesh create a seam that rose to meet the puckered hole of the brahmin's ass, showing briefly between flips of its scraggly tail. The mass of the udder was far from smooth, punctuated with lumps resembling cysts across the surface. The creature's teats hung limply, swaying sadly with each step of its hooves across the broken asphalt of the ruins. At least if you wrung one of the fleshy nubs something would come out eventually.

Charon didn't think he could imagine a more disgustingly vivid reminder of his impotency if he tried.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples between his fingers. Charon felt a churning nausea settle in his stomach while his head seemed to spin dizzily, no doubt from the fumes. The stench coming off the animal's backend reminded him of Ahzrukhal and the Ninth Circle. It was very much like the aftermath of jet smoke, a pungent smell of sulfuric shit. Out of all the scents he could no longer smell clearly after his ghoulification, why did the smell of shit have to be one of the few that stayed?

The irritated ghoul saw Joanna out of the corner of his eye, chatting with Lucky Harith. Or he should say, still chatting with Lucky Harith. They hadn't stopped talking the entire time they've been following the river north ways towards Megaton. Usually Charon hated Joanna's long winded speeches when directed at him, but for some reason he felt much more annoyed that she was speaking to Lucky at all. Charon especially cringed given the current turn in conversation.

"Brahmin bulls have four testicles?" Joanna repeated after Lucky in questioning amusement.

"Uh-huh. I heard tell of one having eight before, but the guy I heard that from is usually full of brahmin shit himself." Lucky shrugged as Joanna tittered. "Then again, I don't know much about brahmin breeding besides takin' care of ol' Emma Grace. But she's gettin' too old for rearing young, almost too old for carrying my stock."

"What'll happen when she's too old to keep up?" Joanna asked, giving one of the bovine heads a pat, earning her a small affectionate grunt from the animal.

Charon only prayed she wasn't planning on making the man an offer to buy the stinking old mutant from him. She already held his contract, he didn't think they needed another beast of burden complicating things.

Lucky scratched at the other head of Emma Grace fondly.

"Ah, I don't think I'd let her go so easy. Her hide ain't worth that much to kill her. Probably just give her to a guy I know up in Canterbury Commons, Ernest Roe. That is if her heart doesn't give out first. She's always been jumpy."

Charon breathed a sigh of relief. Both for the peace of mind they wouldn't be adopting a walking shit dispenser and the long break that followed between Lucky and Joanna's conversation.

They followed the river up in relative silence, besides the soft noise from the lapping water and the crunching of dirt beneath the caravan hand's boots. Charon noted a strange odor on the wind but given the heavy scent of brahmin, he couldn't determine what it was.

A small clicking noise sounded from the side of them. Before Charon could react, a small mirelurk spawn skittered towards the group, making tiny snapping clicks in territorial aggression.

Emma Grace mooed loudly, backing away from the oncoming mutant crustacean at their heels. Lucky pulled at the ropes of her harness in his hands trying to calm her as he reached for his prod.

Charon made quick work of the spawn as he crushed it under his boot. No use in wasting bullets on easy prey, he thought as he scrapped the gooey mess of innards and shell from his boot on the pavement.

Emma Grace still fought Lucky's hold, backing away from the ledge that overhung the water below.

"Calm down girl!" Lucky patted Emma Grace cooing, wrapping his hands in her bindings to tighten them around her.

Suddenly, the feint small clicks from earlier grew into sharp snaps rising out of the water. Two fully grown mirelurks sprung out of the murky riverbed, bringing forth a wave of putrid odor, like dead fish at low tide. Charon drew his weapon to shoot one of them before they could step out of the water. The shotgun blast blew part of its shelled armor from its chest, causing a squealing high pitched whine to leave the creature.

As the others reached for their weapons, another figure erupted out of the water, soaking the caravan with the fountain of river water it splashed as it broke the surface. A gangly more humanoid gilled monster sprang forth. Charon instantly recognized it was a mirelurk king and cursed aloud identifying the creature to the others.

\-----

The king screamed shrilly into the air, the force behind the sonic frequency could be seen in a shimmering wave tearing through the sky. Emma Grace returned the gesture with her own raised bellows, bucking hard despite Lucky's hold. The animal bolted down the road as fast as it could go, dragging an unfortunate Lucky along with it. Joanna could see the yellow of his jumpsuit receding into the distance against the jagged pavement.

The mirelurk king screeched once more before charging towards the remaining group. Charon unloaded a few more rounds into the injured mirelurk before turning and grabbing Joanna by the hand, dragging her to run with him down the road in the direction Lucky was being dragged.

She could see streaks of fresh blood and tattered cloth smearing down the path they ran towards. Screaming and gunfire blasted away behind her where they left the two other guards. Turning her head, she saw one mirelurk body bobbing dead in the water and the guard with the buzz cut being impaled by the second as he in turn jammed a blade deep into its head. The second guard was catching up close behind them, running for his own life as he took potshots behind himself at the humanoid monstrosity.

Up ahead Joanna could see Lucky had broken free of the brahmin, but even from the distance she could see he laid in a tangled mess. He still seemed to be moving some, dragging his twisted weight slowly behind himself. Emma Grace was now totally out of sight.

Joanna struggled pulling against Charon.

"Stop! Stop Charon! We have to help Lucky!"

"We have to help ourselves first!" He yelled continuing to try and pull her past the moaning man.

"Charon I order you to help him! Please!" She cried knowing her compassion may very well be the end of them.

Charon stopped and cursed loudly, letting her hand go. The both of them turned towards the man, only a few yards away near the water. The other guard had caught up, panting heavily as he slowed to an exhausted trot near them. The mirelurk king was no longer behind him.

"Where the fuck is it?" Charon yelled at the guard who only panted harder, shaking his head.

Another loud splash of water erupted from the shoreline, the mirelurk king rose from the river to perch itself over the cowering Lucky.

The creature opened its mouth wide, inhaling deeply, filling its chest with enough air to make itself swell wide.

Charon grabbed Joanna in a tight embrace, and threw their bodies on the ground, his set firmly over her own in a crushing cover. She could feel her insides bruise with the force behind the unforgiving body slam into the dirt.

From her position she could still see the guard standing near, slack jawed staring at the mirelurk king above his boss. The creature then burst forth a terrible screech, unleashing a powerful force that Joanna could feel even under the weight of the large ghoul, like the impact of the aftershocks of a thrown grenade. The guard was caught in the full burst of the sonic boom taking the full effect of the minute long shriek.

Joanna watched horrified as the man's blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning them crimson before busting out of his skull like a freshly popped cork. His ear drums leaked a dark red fluid that flowed down in heavy streams while his chest seemed to puff forth under his armor. The man's body crumpled like a sack of potatoes as a jet of blood flew from his mouth splattering against the ground.

Joanna felt Charon's weight press further into her, holding her still for another moment. She prepared herself for death feeling more sorry she put Charon in this position than herself.

She looked over to Lucky, her ears ringing badly from the deafening mirelurk attack and couldn't believe her eyes. Although her hearing hadn't returned to her, she could see the mirelurk king soundlessly screeching as its entire body lit up in blue sparks. Electricity snapped wildly in bright bolts across its wet body as Lucky pressed his cattle prod against the monster. Its flesh blistered and seared, causing smoke to rise from its trembling body until all the life drained out of it and the metal baton.

Joanna's hearing returned to her just in time to hear the splash of water as the body of the mirelurk king hit the surface of the river, dead as a doorknob.

Her own heart pounded in her ears as Charon lifted himself slightly off her, just enough to hold his face a few inches away. He shifted to one arm so that he could cup her cheek lightly, running his fingers up to stroke back her sweaty hair. She could feel his grip tighten a bit, tugging at the strands. Charon's eyes closed briefly as he let out a shaking breath, his lips moving with words she still couldn't hear.

Within seconds, he groaned and rolled off to lay on his back next to her.

"Damn it." Was the only thing she could hear him say breathily as he panted nearly as hard as she was.

A shadow cast over the two as they lay, trying to catch their breaths. Joanna looked over to see a bald man in fancy embroidered pajamas hovering over her.

She squinted rubbing her eyes, feeling as though she must be hallucinating. But the man only smiled over the two of them clapping his hands with a loud laugh.

"Ha ha! Cherry! Fantasia! Get your sweet asses out here! We have company!" The man laughed hardily again. "And don't forget the booze! These two look like they need a drink and maybe a smoke after being so thoroughly fucked!"

Joanna mouthed a silent "what" as she stared vacantly at the odd man before her.

"Don't move too much sweet cheeks. Let us get you and your ugly friend here inside first, then we'll flap gums." He winked. "Maybe flap other things too, but first a drink. Cherry! Fantasia! Where the fuck are you bitches?"

Joanna rolled her head to look at Charon who now sat up with a frown plastered to his face. She sighed deeply. What the fuck had she gotten them into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucky, he has the worst luck.
> 
> I feel like the next chapter is going to be fun for me to write XD although I laughed pretty hard during this one despite murdering at least two people...lol


	23. Clown Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucky is in bad shape and so is Joanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> custom chem is introduced in this chapter

Charon dumped Lucky onto an old velvet lined sofa with a thud. Dust flew out in a thick puff from the old Pre-War cushions, well worn and full of holes. The man had passed out shortly after the fray, leaving Joanna and Charon bickering over what to do with him. It didn't help that the strange man, who later introduced himself as Dukov, gave Joanna the okay to cart the poor dying bastard inside his home.

The ghoul looked down on Lucky Harith sprawled helplessly out on the couch. His breathing was heavy and labored, both his legs laid uselessly twisted, and his whole left side was skinned, leaving him looking like raw battered meat.  Charon couldn't see him lasting the night in his condition, but Joanna insisted on trying to save what was left of him.

The girl knelt at Lucky's side pulling out stimpack after stimpack trying to aid as best she could.

"Don't be stupid and waste all our supplies prolonging his death." Charon grumbled, arms crossed as he watched.

"He's not going to die." She snapped.

"Even if he lives, he will not be walking away from what happened, most likely ever again, and then he will die." Charon continued to watch the girl frantically working on peeling bits of Lucky's jumpsuit from his wounds and chunks of pebbled asphalt. Even though his observation had been less than pleasant, he still felt pity for his employer.

"Mistress, let me take care of him..." He motioned to the pistol strapped to her but she reached out to slap him away.

"We are not killing him." She said firmly, wasting more supplies as she brought out fresh water for the unconscious man.

Charon felt a low boil of anger swelling inside himself, feeling his fingers itch as he ran them over his shotgun. Before he could express his bitterness over the situation a hardy laugh barked out behind him.

"Now don't be pulling out your piece around here, clown shoes. Only I'm allowed to do that. Ha ha!" Dukov approached. "But seriously, keep your weapon away or you'll be out flat on your ghoul ass! Except her. She can stay, always." He winked at Joanna even though she hadn't turned to look at the man.

Charon made a low growl as he grimaced at Dukov.

"Hey, I'm just fucking around. Don't be going feral on me. Here, take this clown shoes." He handed Charon a cold glass full of rich caramel colored liquor. A few ice cubes clinked around submerged in the liquid, a rare luxury in even the more civilized parts of the wasteland.

"Here sweet cheeks, one for you too." Dukov thrust a drink near Joanna, but the girl refused only to stare glumly at the man still breathing shakily on the couch.

"Come on. You've done what you can. Now, only time will tell. And what better way to pass the time than a drink?" The host chuckled. "Well, maybe I can think of one thing better...but I don't think clown shoes here would think it so good."

Joanna wiped at her eyes and grabbed the drink from Dukov, downing it fast.

"Now that's the spirit! Cherry! Fantasia! Need more booze over here!" The loud man clapped his hands, summoning his two scantily clad helpers or whores or whatever the hell they were to him. Charon didn't really want to ask.

Both women showed large expanses of skin, barely covered by short silken negligees. The two were polar opposites in appearance and attitude. The younger looking girl had soft features, like the velvet that draped the room, and supple rounded curves that mirrored the forms of the decadent mahogany furniture, both in shape and color. All warmth stopped at her eyes, as they stared vexed towards his employer. The only thing greener than the intense jealousy in her stare was the eyes of her counterpart. A boney red headed woman, all angles and harsh lines. But where the other woman's eyes were cold and lips a full pout, hers were full of a deep mirth and the thin line of her mouth pulled in a cocksure smirk.

"Keep your pants on Dukey, we're coming." Cherry said while giving Charon a toothy grin, causing him to tense.

"How are you supposed to come if I keep them on? Ha ha!" Dukov laughed at his own joke.

Charon glowered at them as they drew nearer. The nude flesh they both so proudly paraded was still much like any other common wastelander, rough and cracking from long nights of too much alcohol and not enough water. Still, Charon felt it hard to not look at them, as if they were more unusual than the loud old drunkard or the dying man on the couch.   

"Aren't my party girls sweet? I want to eat them like candy. Ha ha" He clapped the ghoul on the back as Cherry handed him another drink. "Hey, careful! Don't take that literally, clown shoes. Don't want that tongue of yours rotting off while it's on the floor."

Charon grumbled as he turned his attention back to his employer who was now taking down another full drink. Her face pinched unpleasantly as she polished off her glass.

"Now that's the spirit baby! A woman after my own heart! Let's get wasted. I mean really stinking drunk." He grabbed a full bottle from Fantasia's hands and drained a good portion releasing his lips with an exaggerated smack.

Joanna sniffled as she rubbed at her eyes with a heavy sigh. "I'm already so tired."

"Oh baby, how about letting old Dukov rock you to sleep, if you know what I mean?"

Charon stepped between the man and his employer, straightening to his full height.

"Alright, alright." Dukov raised his hands mockingly. "Just a joke, clown shoes. If there's two things I have plenty of it's ass and booze, but a man like me couldn't say no to more!"

Charon watched his employer drown in a bottle of liquor that Dukov took the initiative to pour himself. She went from sullen to silly in barely anytime, laughing at his dirty whispering only a hairs breadth louder than the wheezing breaths of Lucky whose ragged inhales bubbled in his lungs.

His employer was cruel to leave him ruined and wasted as she addled her mind.

Music played over the jukebox loudly and he watched his employer drink and quietly sing along, making up babbled phrases over the lines she didn't know. She dribbled liquor down her open mouth as she leaned up against the couch Lucky laid on.

"That's enough." He said, taking her drink away from her as its contents spilled over and onto the floor.

"Wha'? Now who's takin' orders from who?" She slurred as she grabbed for the drink.

Dukov was occupied playing grab ass with his party girls.

Charon grabbed her wrist, jerking the delicate bone in a tight grasp. "You aren't in a position to give orders right now. If you had any sense you'd finish what you started." He drew her head to the side to look back at Lucky.

Joanna closed her eyes tight, swallowing harder than when she had downed her first drink.

"I think I feel sick." She wailed, drawing her head into her knees.

Cherry came over, taking note of her sudden change.

"Hey honey, you not feeling so hot?" She leaned down to rub at Joanna's back who only murmured pathetically in response before puking down her front leathers.

"Dukey, I'm going to take this one to clean up. Maybe get her a bit more comfortable before she gets back to partying." Cherry helped to pick Joanna up, giving Charon a small wink. He cringed, feeling her eyes creeping over his skin.

Dukov waved his hand, far gone in his own drink. "Yeah, yeah. Take Fantasia with you. Leave the men alone while you all make yourselves pretty!"

"Charon...watch Lucky...please." Joanna managed to say to him before the two women steered her towards another room, leaving Charon alone with a very drunk Dukov.

Charon fumed in his head. Not only was she tormenting him by leaving him with a drunk lecher, but also to watch a man die slower than he ought to.

"That's a fine piece of ass you got there." Dukov slurred as he chuckeled. "Not your ass, obviously. That sweet little thing you got. You must be hung like a fucking super mutant."

Charon groaned, hating that he now was the only person left for Dukov to chatter at.

"Come on. How is she?" Dukov pressed.

"We don't do that." Charon gritted through his teeth, hoping he would drink himself under the table soon.

"Why the fuck not?" He sputtered, spilling some of his drink. "You know I had a ghoul party girl once. Just to try it. Out here I can do whatever the fuck I want and whoever the fuck I want."

Silence fell over the pair for several minutes.

"You know I remember you, clown shoes." Dukov rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I remember a big ass ghoul like you tagging along Tenpenny's man way back. That creepy little fuck, Burke. Hadn't been paid a visit since the last job. I'm retired now, tell Burke to fuck off."

Charon's eyes narrowed at the drunk, recalling a familiar face many years ago, although age had turned Dukov more haggard and bald.

"Don't work for Burke anymore."

"So that was you? Sweet Jesus, ghouls don't age a day...not that you are looking any better with age. Ha ha."

"Same to you." Charon huffed.

"Ha ha! You are right about that." He patted his protruding gut proudly. "I'm old as shit, which means you must be old as hell, clown shoes. How do you go around with that young thing?"

Charon shrugged. "I can still keep up."

Dukov gave him a grin before taking a long swig from his bottle.

"I hear that. You know how I keep my bitches happy all night long?" He questioned, waggling his brows towards the ghoul.

 Charon could see Dukov put a hand deep in his pants pocket, beginning to fish around jerkily out of the corner of his eye.

"Take a look." He said pulling something halfway out of his pocket.

"Go flash your dick somewhere else." Charon said with a disgusted snort, turning his head far away from Dukov.

"What? Oh. Ha ha! No, no...you would be so lucky." Dukov bellowed a laugh, shoving his hand out for Charon to look at his open palm. "This is what I meant."

In Dukov's palm a small lump of clear crystalline glass sat reflecting the light off its irregular edges.

"This is swing." Dukov said.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"I wouldn't expect you to, clown shoes. This shit isn't getting around much here yet. I got a supplier who makes this from some weird fucking plant out west of here...but it keeps me going for hours! Days! Hell, I put a hole in the mattress nailing Cherry to the bed! Ha ha!"

"It's a chem?" Charon asked, not really sure why he was bothering to inquire further about it, or at least not wanting to admit he may be interested in hearing more.

"Not just a chem, a fucking miracle! I always partied but now I'm partying more than I ever had, longer than I ever could." Dukov sat down in a nearby chair, letting himself sink into the seat. The man held the chem towards the light, letting it sparkle as he twisted it around.

Without warning, Dukov crashed into a deep sleep, letting his bottle fall from his hands and smash onto the floor, breaking into splintering shards. Charon could see in the glittering pile of glass, the oddly shaped lump of translucent chem. He picked it up and rolled it around between his fingers a few times.

What an old stupid ghoul he was becoming.

Charon sighed, looking up to the ceiling. A huge gaudy light fixture, shaped like two entwined women, was tied precariously from the rafters. He held up the piece of swing in front of his eyes, letting the forms twist into obscurity behind the filter of crystal.

The room was silent as he pocketed the chem staring out over the banister.

He was painfully aware of the long absence of labored breaths. Charon started his descent down the stairs without turning around, figuring now would be a good time to find his employer to report on Lucky's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is a chem I made up. I started this Fallout roleplaying game with my friends for the Midwest. It takes place around Chicago and the neighboring suburbs (i am ignoring fallout tactics for it) We have all kinds of really cool stuff planned out...or I think it's cool anyway lol
> 
> So swing is actually made from the syrup of a special genetically modified corn plant developed by some scientists near the Morton Arboretum. It's almost like a weird sugar glass and is a party drug. Closest to cocaine in a way with its effects but flavored a bit differently which I'll probably get into later on... 
> 
> I am toying with the idea of writing something in a different story that actually goes through the parts of Chicago we came up with. Currently the big thing in our game is a prohibition on chems forced by the Midwest BoS based out of Orchard Field (O'Hare Airport). Bootlegging of homemade chems and booze. Lots of propaganda tying chem usage falsely to ghoulification and tons of other stuff with all kinds of custom factions and mob/swinger/jazz flavor stuff tied in... also big focus on ghoul equality.   
> I really like Fallout......I also made a custom music mix to use while we play for the radio XD which is hosted by a character named Ranger Nick who sounds suspiciously like Nick Offerman lol 
> 
> Updates have been kinda slow but I'm hoping to still be able to do one or two a week at least.


	24. Ghoul Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna's actions don't seem to settle well with her.

Joanna could hear Fantasia's voice echoing off the sides of the bucket she held her head in.

"You aren't planning on staying here long, right?" She could make out the impatient voice questioning her over the sound of her puke hitting the bottom of the pale.

"Hush Fantasia. Can't you see the poor thing is sick?" Cherry made her way over to pat Joanna lightly on the back.

"Not my fault if she can't hold her liquor. Maybe she shouldn't be in Dukov's place if she can't keep up."

"If she drank like you and Dukov she'd be deader than a doorknob, or as dumb as one. You okay, honey?" Cherry asked.

Joanna spat again, trying to rid the bitter taste of bile from her mouth. A long strand of saliva ran down her parted lips, tethering her to the bucket by a thin viscous string.

"Terrible. I'm terrible." She muttered, snapping the connection as she lifted her head up, looking at Cherry. "I couldn't tell Charon to..."

"Charon? You mean your ghoulie toy?" Fantasia snickered while the other woman jabbed at her with an elbow.

"What? C'mon, you wanna know too." She whispered hurriedly at a blushing Cherry.

"I do not." Cherry hissed through her teeth as Fantasia poked at her sides, hiding her growing smile behind the boney woman.

"Ask her." Fantasia prodded.

Joanna ran a hand through her hair, slicking it back with the sweat from her brow.

"What? Ask me what?" she coughed, pulling the bucket away to place between her knees.

Cherry hit Fantasia softly causing her to chuckle darkly. "Just what is Charon to you, sugar?"

Joanna shrugged, mopping the remaining sweat at her brow with her sleeve. 

"He's my bodyguard, I guess."

"Your bodyguard?" Fantasia hummed, obviously amused. "That's a lot of ghoul for one body."

"Charon protects me for the most part." Joanna mumbled, feeling her head start to ache with her oncoming sobriety. "Just someone to travel with. He's already saved my life a few times now."

"So you pay him for travelling around with you?" Cherry asked, handing her a moist towel to wipe at her filthy leathers.

"Well, no I don't pay him." Joanna said, taking the cloth with a small thanks.

"So what does he get in return for protecting you?" Fantasia inquired, propping herself up to sit on the sink.

"Oh. Umm...nothing really." Joanna hesitantly admitted. She wasn't sure why but she didn't feel exactly comfortable telling them about Charon's contract openly. Especially that she herself still didn't fully understand it either. The paper that held his contract was old and weathered, far from being legible to her eyes, and she was still too nervous around Charon to speak candidly with him for any length of time. He wasn't the talkative sort.

Joanna shrugged. "I guess he just does it for free."

"Honey, in my experience men don't do anything for free." Cherry said, clucking her tongue.

"Or women." Fantasia added. "I don't do this for free, I can tell you that much right now."

"C'mon honey, you can be honest with us here. We won't judge you if you're a...well, you know..." Cherry cocked her brow, emphasizing her pause.

Joanna look bewildered at the redhead, struggling to comprehend what she was implying. "A what?"

"Well, you are traveling with a ghoul, sweetie. A big ghoul, and a man at that. I'm sure people have suggested it before..." Cherry trailed off again, to Joanna's annoyance.

"What?" The vault girl asked, irritated as she gripped her bucket tightly, afraid of the answer.

"Oh come on!" Fantasia interjected impatiently, rolling her eyes. "You're a rot bagger, a ghoul fucker, a maggot farmer!"

"I thought it was maggot plower?" Cherry asked with crossed arms.

"That's if it's a lady ghoul. She's a maggot farmer." Fantasia pointed out. "But Dukey only had that lady ghoul over the one time. I've never heard of a woman actually being on the receiving end before." She shivered. "Can you imagine?"

Cherry shook her head. "I don't even like doing it with Dukov, the bald headed bastard, but at least he's got skin. No offense, sugar." She eyed Joanna on the floor sympathetically. "It's not easy being a woman out there. Neither of us would judge you for it."

"But I'm not! We don't do that!" Joanna yelped, feeling her head swim in embarrassment. Although true, she had never been with Charon in any intimate sense, Ahzrukhal came to mind making her stomach turn sour once again. Her heart leapt to her throat making it hard to form words to her defense. Instead, she choked back a sob before letting her guts spill back into the bucket once more.

"I've never fucked Charon." She sniffled, spitting more bitterness into the pale at her feet.

"Then how do you pay him?" Fantasia asked from her seat on the sink.

Joanna only shrugged.

"Well, Dukov protects us, and in return we pay him back. It's only fair..." Fantasia cocked her head to look at the girl on the floor. "Don't you think you should give him what he's owed?"

Joanna looked up at the two women blankly. She had never thought about owing Charon anything before, but she supposed she was in debt to him for how many times he had saved her life. Even if she held his contract, she never really thought about what his needs were, or if he had any. Maybe she did owe him something, but what could he possibly want?

"I don't think he really wants anything." Joanna shook her head. "He's never acted like he cares about much."

"Well, my mama always said: If he ain't after caps, he's after ass. Maybe the big guys just in love with you." Cherry sighed. "Wish some big bruiser was head over heels for me. I'd tell Dukov he could kiss my sweet ass goodbye for the last time."

Joanna swallowed hard feeling Charon's contract burning in her pocket. Whatever kept him honor bound to her, it definitely wasn't love.

\-----

Charon made his way down the stairs taking his time to walk slowly around a large mattress that laid in the middle of the room. Crumpled sheets lay scattered over the worn box spring, the deep crimson color bled into light pink patches. A heavy scent laid here, all salt and musk. Charon could nearly taste the heat of it on his tongue, like the afterglow of sex and cigarettes had become as permanent as the stains on the fading sheets. Dukov and those women were all over this room, ingrained like the pitted notches in the bedposts and scratches at the headboard.

He felt the rough edges of the chem in his pocket, picturing the scenes that may have unfolded at this very spot.

It made Charon feel nauseous.

Too much filled his nose and not enough filled his stomach. The scent twisted around the emptiness inside, churning with the lapping whiskey, and coiling with the pity for the fresh corpse upstairs.

Charon just wanted to get Joanna and get the hell out of this place. Dukov could be left with his booze, his drugs, and his whores. He didn't want any of it, Charon thought, still tracing the edges of the chem between his fingers.

The tall ghoul strode quickly over to the flimsy door he saw Joanna had gone through earlier, and kicked it open without warning.

The younger of Dukov's women cut off whatever she was saying to snap angrily at him.

"Do you mind?" Fantasia sneered.

Charon ignored her and the redhead that sat at his employers side.

"Lucky is dead. Let's go."

Joanna looked up at him, appearing ghastly pale and even younger next to the two more world weary women. Her big round eyes grew glassy with swelling tears.

"He's...dead?" She blinked dumbly. "How?"

"He was dragged a god damn mile by a fucking brahmin, that's how." Charon reached a hand out to help her stand. "Now come on, I don't like the look of this place."

Joanna didn't make a move to stand, allowing the redhead next to her to lean in close over her shoulder. The light silk negligee that covered her gapped slightly, allowing him to see down to her exposed breast.

"What's a matter big guy? Don't like the view here?" Cherry purred, pressing herself closer to Joanna. "You know there ain't much better places than this one in the ruins. Stay awhile longer and rest."

"No." Charon stated flatly, pulling a limp Joanna up to her feet.

"But there might be more mirelurks out there," Fantasia added from her seat at the sink. She spread her legs slightly as she spoke, shifting her weight to press further down, making the curve of her hips more noticeable.

Charon grunted, pulling Joanna along by the wrist. "We'll take our chances."

As he continued to lead his employer to the front door, she stopped, becoming dead weight against his small amounts of force. He sighed, letting her hand drop and turned to face her.

"He's really dead?" She sniffed, glancing up the stairs to where Lucky's body was left.

"Yes." Charon was becoming annoyed with her. "If you would have let me take care of him, he would have been dead a lot sooner, with less pain."

Joanna wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"The person you should apologize to is dead. Saying it to me won't help."

The girl continued to tear up, letting her breath shake heavily as she inhaled deeply to calm herself.

"I'm not like my father. He would have been able to help, to give him a fighting chance! But I'm..." she choked, face reddening. "I'm not my father."

"You tried to do what you thought was the right thing without thinking of anyone else. When you realized you couldn't fix it the way you wanted, you abandoned him without finishing the job." Charon took her wrist again, squeezing it harder than before. "You are exactly like your father."

Joanna's bottom lip caught between her teeth as she worried the cracking skin there. Her purple bruises faded into the milk of her porcelain skin, even her cuts and scrapes seemed smooth on her. She said nothing as she took a sharp inhale, like a wince, as if his words had struck her pride fully.

He let his grip loosen from her wrist to slide down her palm for a brief moment before allowing her fingers to slip away. Charon turned and walked on, letting her follow in silence behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on the way to Megaton with just our two wasteland wanderers for some alone time on the road.


	25. IOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Joanna are making their way to Megaton slowly but surely.

The pair carried down the road for awhile in dead silence. Normally, Charon would be thankful for the quiet, but given the circumstances, it just felt wrong. His employer dragged her feet behind him, looking forlorn.

Her happiness wasn't a concern to him, it had nothing to do with his contract, but for some reason the snaking grip of his conditioning told him otherwise. She wasn't Ahzrukhal, and although that fact alone didn't mean much, she certainly had not earned his contempt...yet.

He cleared his throat loudly, trying to catch the girls attention.

"It's not a bad thing," the ghoul grated out in a scratchy tone without breaking his pace down the road they followed.

"What?" the vault girls voice cracked quietly behind him. "What's not a bad thing?"

"Being like your father. It's not a bad thing."

She scoffed slightly. "How would you know? You barely saw him."

"I know bad people. Your father isn't one of them."

Joanna looked at him with wide eyes full of what he assumed was pity. It made him feel sick.

"Have all your employers been bad?"

Charon grumbled as he thought over the question, kicking himself for opening this line of discussion of his own accord.

"Yes...and no." He sighed, knowing that wouldn't satisfy her. "No one starts off bad, they become bad."

"What makes them become bad?"

"All different reasons." He shook his head trying to avoid the pressing memories threatening to push through. "Your dad isn't bad, kid, just...kind of stupid."

"Stupid?" Joanna sputtered in disbelief. "My dad was our vault doctor all my life. He's a scientist!"

"Just because someone is smart doesn't mean they can't be stupid. Kind of like you." Charon smirked as her pitiful look shifted into a flustered heat. "You know, for hating him so much you're pretty quick to defend him."

"I'm not defending him." She snapped. "And I don't hate him."

"Could have fooled me." Charon rolled his eyes looking out forward at the fogging path before them.

"What was your father like?" Joanna asked innocently.

Charon slowed his pace.

"I didn't have one."

"I'm sorry. Your mother then?"

He shook his head. "I didn't have one."

"You weren't always a ghoul though. You had parents at some point."

"I have been a ghoul a lot longer than I had been a human now. But no, I still did not have parents."

Joanna looked at him, confusion evident across her face.

"Didn't you have anyone who took care of you?"

"Kind of." Charon shrugged, not liking the subject much. "My original contract holder."

"Who was that?"

The corner of Charon's mouth pulled back in a grimace, he didn't know why he was even telling her this much."I don't know. He handled a lot of paperwork. I never saw him much, only heard him give orders on occasion until my contract was passed on."

"Sounds like our Overseer. He was always watching over everything we did but never bothered to show up in person much. Is that what your original contract holder was like?"

Charon hummed. "That sounds accurate."

The girl at his side now strolled lazily behind him, kicking small rocks that skittered down the concrete path in front of them.

"Ahzrukhal said you grew up in a group that brainwashed you," she said, toeing another rock with the tip of her boot.

"Ahzrukhal used to say he was a famous Pre-War singer." Charon snorted.

"He was?" Joanna asked, bright eyed in awe.

The ghoul rolled his eyes. "No, mistress."

"So...you aren't brainwashed?"

A long sigh escaped him as he scanned the horizon. Where were the super mutants when you wanted them?

"Maybe you aren't as much like your father as I thought."

Joanna pouted. "That's not very nice of you Charon."

"Maybe I'm not much like your father either."

\-----

Joanna felt an ache in her chest as she stared at the back of Charon's head following close on his heels. She had talked at Charon before, in long rambling streams of conscious, but she had never gotten much out of him.

"We don't talk much," the vault girl observed aloud. "I think this is the most you've ever really said to me about yourself."

"Would you like me to stop?" his voice grated indifferently.

"No!" She rushed awkwardly to answer as she trotted up to try and match his long strides. "I like talking to you. I would like you to talk whenever you feel like it."

Charon cast a glance down at her and shrugged. "If conversation is what you wish, I shall provide it."

That phrase. It was the same he had used at Carol's Place the morning after she purchased his contract. They still had not talked over the details much. There was still a lot she didn't know about him or what kinds of things he could provide her with.

If she was being honest, she wasn't sure what she wished of him.

"I was thinking about your contract. Do I..." she bit her chaffed lip between her teeth, tasting the blood from the cracking skin there, "do I owe you something?"

"Owe me something?" the tall ghoul repeated, prompting her to clarify.

"Yeah. Do I owe you for being under contract?" Joanna recalled the conversation between Cherry and Fantasia, not quite sure if this was the right time to be bringing this up, but she carried on regardless. "Should I be paying you?"

Charon shook his head. "No. You hold my contract so I am honor bound in your service. You are not financially indebted to me...although, as long as you are capable, you are financially responsible for me. I don't exactly have any money to feed us, or provide lodging when available."

"Well, it isn't fair is it?"

Charon paused before parroting the question back to her once more. "What isn't fair?"

"You are bound to me but I don't owe you anything. That doesn't seem fair."

Joanna waited for her companion to respond, but only silence answered.

"Do you want anything?" she asked him directly.

Again, she found herself stuck behind him looking up at the remaining bits of his auburn hair. From her position she could see his hand reach to rub at the back of his neck, over to his ruined cheek. His head shook slightly as he grumbled, "Not particularly."

Joanna ran a wet tongue over her chapped lips, once again tasting the bit of copper from the flecks of drawn blood. Her fingers twitched, feeling the phantom sparks she had felt in the sliver of space between her hand and his face the night at Rivet City.

"There has to be something." Her chest tightened. "Anything."

Charon's pace slowed a bit as he stroked the side of his face, a low rumble building in his chest.

"You wish to give me something?" he said contemplating.

Joanna swallowed audibly, clenching her hands up to form small fists in the resolve of her answer. "Yes."

"What do you wish to give me?" her employee asked.

Her words seemed to catch in her throat at his question. "I'm not sure. What do you want?"

The large ghoul hummed thoughtfully, the noise made her stomach flip in the anticipation.

"There is one thing I would like from you..." his voice remained low as he stopped in his tracks. Joanna bumped hard into his side, not expecting the sudden halt. The brief contact did not seem to bother him as he turned to look face to face with her. Her next breath caught in her chest as she met the full intensity of his hazy blue looking eyes.

"Would it please you to know?" he asked her, voice as graveled as the broken pavement beneath them.

She gulped down the lump in her throat, answering with a breathy, "Yes."

A smirk drew lazily across his face as he leaned in closer to her, causing a bead of sweat to roll down her temple. She could taste the salt of the perspiration on her lips as she ran her tongue over the cracking skin once more, running her eyes down to his own radiation ravaged mouth.

The wind was almost knocked out of her as he chuckled, pushing the butt of his gun lightly to poke at her side.

"A bit of gratitude would be nice."

"Gratitude?" she repeated, letting her chest deflate from the release of her held breath.

"Yes." Charon nodded, still smirking at her obvious discomfort. "A bit of gratitude. And maybe if you listened to me before making decisions for us. That, I would like very much."

Her bewilderment morphed quickly into disdain.

"Gratitude?" She repeated sharply once more. "That's not a real request!"

Charon's smirk quickly fell. "Well what the hell do you want me to ask for, smoothskin?"

Joanna stammered, "I...I don't know." She could feel her face reddening in her blustering. "Caps or chems or... I don't know! More than gratitude!"

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Why was she always so damn sweaty around him?

"After this whole time, why do you think you owe me something now?" he drew back, folding his arms across his chest.

His shadow engulfed her, making her feel like she had been caught. Cherry and Fantasia couldn't have been more wrong. Even with an open invitation, Charon really didn't want anything from her.

She shifted her weight, fidgeting with her straps.

"I was talking to Cherry and Fantasia -"

"Dukov's whores?" Charon snorted loudly, taking back off down the road again at full speed. "Well I ain't a damn whore. I don't need to be paid. I don't _want_ to be paid."

"I wasn't suggesting you were!" she called out, trying to sprint up to stay behind him. "I just thought maybe I could give you something for helping me so much. As a thank you, I guess."

Charon huffed again. "Buying my contract off Ahzrukhal was thanks enough."

His contract.

She remembered the payment she had given to earn his services. A few minutes of stomach churning nausea after a sloppily preformed fellatio was an insignificant penance for what she was given in turn.

"I've done a lot more for a lot less," she said feeling her mouth sour with the admittance. "Maybe I just want to do something nice for someone who deserves it for once."

Charon's pace had slowed again so that her strides were equal with his own. She could see his eyes scan their surroundings, lingering on her for only a few seconds longer than the rest of the fogging path before them.

"If that is what you wish, I will keep it in mind, mistress."

Joanna couldn't tell where they were with the blanket of mist around them thickening, everything was familiar but looked so different in the haze they waded further into. Even though she couldn't see what lied ahead clearly, she trusted in Charon and his sure footing. Soon, they would be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Finally got around to posting this one! I'm still chugging through, trying to write when I can spare the time.
> 
> Charon is slowly opening up, even if it's just a tiny bit here. :3


	26. Replaying Old Records

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon knows more than he lets on...

The walk was long and time seemed to pass slower with each step. Three Dog's voice came softly out of the Pip-Boy on Joanna's wrist. Charon made no grumbles of protest at the small distraction so she hummed quietly along with the music, looking at her map as she followed behind her ghoulish companion.

Yet another song came and went with another repeated news bulletin.

Joanna sighed. "I wish I could play the songs I want to hear whenever I wanted. I haven't even heard him play Civilization once today."

She hadn't expected Charon to care and wasn't surprised at his small grunt of acknowledgement at her comment. Song after song came and went, each one drawing more dramatic sighs from her until Charon finally interrupted the pattern.

"Why don't you just record the songs on your Pip-Boy?"

The vault girls mouth parted as she took in his suggestion, surprised he had once again spoken up on his own.

"Well that would be a good idea in theory," she said dismissively, clicking some buttons on the machine on her arm, "but my Pip-Boy can't record anything, let alone the radio while it's playing."

"Yes it can."

Joanna looked up at the ghoul, confused by his quick reply.

"No, it can't." She said more firmly. Maybe he just hadn't heard her correctly the first time.

"Yes, it can." His voice answered just as flatly as before.

"No, it can't."

"Yes, it can."

Joanna stopped walking and crossed her arms defensively. "Well, I've had his thing since I was ten years old. I think I would know what it can and can't do."

"You would think that." Charon retorted, the touch of sarcasm in the comment not going unnoticed by her.

Her mouth fell agape as she felt the sting to her pride. She wasn't particularly fond of his know-it-all attitude, especially on a subject he knew nothing about. The nerve of some ghouls.

Huffing in frustration, Joanna unclasped the machine from her forearm and thrust it out at her companion.

"Well if you're so sure of yourself, teach me." She shook the Pip-Boy at him again. "Record the next song that comes up."

The ghoul in front of her sighed, but took the Pip-Boy out of her hands.

"If that is what you wish," he grumbled.

Joanna watched as he worked the small knobs and buttons, seemingly having a harder time pinching a few between the length of his fingers. She smiled knowingly at his fumbling ministrations as Three Dog's voice cut off the end of the song.

_"And up next is Civilization by the Andrew Sisters. Sit back, relax, and enjoy."_

A small light caught Joanna's attention, glowing red at the top of the Pip-Boy just before the song began to play. The vault girl's brow furrowed slightly. Had that button ever turned red before?

As the song continued to play, Joanna's smile fell more and more, until it disappeared with the song altogether. After it had finished, Charon flicked one of the knobs again, turning off the small glowing light.

He clicked the radio off and flipped over to another screen on her small personal computer. With another twist of a dial, a blue light appeared where the red one had been, followed by a familiar voice.

_"And up next is Civilization by the Andrew Sisters. Sit back, relax, and enjoy."_

Once again, the song played just as clear as the first time over the radio.

"Would you like me to edit Three Dog out of the recording?" Charon asked, not looking up from the device.

Initially, Joanna was shocked. Since when could her Pip-Boy do that?

She took the clunky piece of tech back from him, inspecting it warily. Her eyes narrowed as she ran her hands along the familiar equipment, feeling as if somehow the well worn item had betrayed her.

"How?" she asked dumbfounded. "How did you get it to do that?"

Charon shrugged, briefly reviewing the few easy steps it took for him to do what she considered impossible not but five minutes ago.

She continued to run her fingers along the Pip-Boy, bewildered at the objects increasing foreignness.

"But _how_?" she repeated, "How did you know?"

Again, Charon shrugged but this time remained silent.

"Charon. How did you know my Pip-Boy could do that?"

A grumbling sigh left the ghoul.

"I just know."

Joanna felt a bubble rise in her stomach, filled with some kind of desperate anxiety or anger. She wasn't sure which, but she didn't really care to overanalyze at the moment.

"Charon, I order you to tell me how you knew."

To her surprise, and displeasure, the ghoul smirked.

"I told you before, it doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" she pouted at his mocking grin.

"Maybe you should spend more time reading manuals, mistress. Then you would know how things work."

\-----

Charon spent the rest of their journey being peppered by the vault girls questions. Most of the inquiries he shrugged off, or simply didn't bother acknowledging. Besides, he had other things to worry about.

His head had been muddled, replaying Joanna's hanging offer of payment over in his head more times than she played that stupid song over her Pip-Boy.

The ghoul swallowed thickly.

She must know.

Charon closed his eyes briefly, feeling that his vision was only adding to his oncoming headache.

The ghoul stretched his shoulders, sighing as he rubbed the jutting bone in the back of his neck. His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth together, chewing on the inside of his decaying cheek. Here, his skin was smooth still, he thought as he ran his tongue over the wet expanse of his mouth.

If he focused hard enough he could almost imagine a time before his flesh had wilted and flaked away like the dried leaves that crunched under his boot. A time where his hair was soft and his hands calloused, rough like warm sandpaper but smooth all the same. A time where he felt his heart race and his palms sweat and friction felt good, really good, everywhere all the time.

But now, all that he had were memories of skin and hair and sweat. He snuck a glance at his employer, still fiddling with her Pip-Boy crossly. Apparently, she had grown tired of trying to pry information from him as she now busied herself with her recordings, ignoring him.

The radio played softly as the little red light glowed, indicating she was still recording. Charon smiled, glad she wasn't paying attention to him to notice.

"You can only record a handful of songs. You'll have to copy the recordings onto holotapes if you want more," he said, watching for a reaction.

Her expression didn't change as her eyes remained glued to the screen.

"Are you going to share how you know that?"

The corners of his mouth curled upwards even more, he just couldn't help it.

"No," he replied, watching her sigh in annoyance.

Although he had nothing to hide from his employer, and certainly no secrets to really keep, he still didn't have to share information with his employer if he didn't want to, and he really didn't want to.

Saying a flat out "no" to any employer was a treat that he relished, the scowl on her face was just an added bonus. Much to his amusement, she looks the most pathetic when she's frustrated.

Pathetic, he thought to himself, and powerless to do anything about it. Ahzrukhal had taken his time, combed through his contract, tested his boundaries and his patience time and time again in search of loopholes to exploit. Thorough and manipulative, he controlled as many aspects of his will as he could, but not Joanna.

No, Joanna allowed herself to remain ignorant. She wielded his contract like a bladder shy whelp, too nervous to piss let alone pull a trigger.

Her Pip-Boy shifted awkwardly on her forearm as she adjusted the machine. Charon could feel the ghost of the weight on his left arm, the chaffing of the strap, and the warm metal making his skin clammy underneath.  

Even the memory of the uncomfortable device sticking and rubbing seemed pleasant in hindsight. Charon never thought he would miss the heat rash the thing caused, or the stupid faulty flashlight, or the soft whirring of the machine in the quiet unbroken silence in the night.

The ghoul thought he had put all these things behind him long ago, that all these urges were beneath him, but with Joanna at his side it was harder to forget and easier to miss.

"Did you know it can play games?"

She looked up at him wide eyed and mouth agape.

"Shut up," she whispered.

Charon chuckled. "If that's what you wish..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang. I'm not sure why this took me forever to get to. And it's so short XD darn. 
> 
> I'll get more done soon!!!!! The holidays have already been killing me and my limited schedule.


	27. Megaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thing's get hotter as Charon and Joanna get closer to Megaton.

Joanna felt the warmth of the sun bake into her bones. The dry heat was something still unbearably foreign to her after her life in the vault. Perhaps noticing her discomfort, Charon had thrown a moist strip of fabric over her head, warning her to keep her skin shielded from the sun.

"I'm not going to melt you know," she huffed displeased with her own frailty. Even still, she held the material in place, letting the dampness relieve a bit of the heat.

"Smoothskins are fragile enough as it is," the ghoul said, shielding his eyes as he looked out to the distant blot of Megaton's steel walls. "Vaultie like you on a clear day like today...sun could blister so bad you'll peel your face clear off."

"Is that what happened to you?"

Charon grumbled dismissively, ignoring her question. "We need to get you out of the sun."

Joanna pouted from under her protective cloth. "But we're almost there. I don't want to stop."

"Then we will continue if you wish," her companion replied, "but I advise we keep to shaded areas as we go along."

The large ghoul wasn't much of a conversationalist, but Joanna found his presence comforting. Every step he would take and every word he chose was calculated, he always stopped to think before he made any action. This was a trait she had admired about her father. Looking at the two, her father and Charon, they couldn't be more physically different, but for every difference they had Joanna could think of two more similarities between them. Joanna admitted this was probably why she found herself placing her trust in him easily.

Under her fabric, she smiled to herself.

"The heat getting to you already?"

Her wandering mind was suddenly interrupted by the ghouls hand waving in front of her face.

She shook her head, readjusting her covering which was now dry. "No. I was just thinking..."

Charon paused to look at her a moment, before casting his gaze towards the approaching ruins of a neighborhood ahead.

"Raider territory." he spoke aloud as he unholstered his weapon. "It would be wise to take caution, mistress."

"You think we'll run into them?" Joanna traced her own pistol gently.

The ghoul shook his head. "It's hot, the sun is at its peak. They are most likely holed up somewhere out of sight, away from the heat. As we should soon be...for your sake at least."

Joanna smirked. "I heard you the first time. You don't have to nag. We can make it."

Charon looked as if he wasn't even bothering to listen to her as he took out some of their rationed water. Carefully, he retrieved the material from her head to rewet the cloth.

This wasn't the first time he tended to her so gingerly. She recalled the day he wrapped her centaur wound for her in the Washington Memorial.  In reality, it hadn't been so many days ago, but at that time Joanna didn't hold his contract so she didn't think he was obligated to tend to her. Maybe he was actually a gentle caring person. Or was she just projecting these things onto him?

She bit at her lip.

"Have you given it any thought?"

"Given what any thought?" He asked, wetting the cloth in his hands.

"Thoughts on what I can give you. What do you want?"

Joanna watched as Charon returned the material to her head, his hand paused near the replaced covering. His face was his normal unreadable mask.

Charon's fingers pinched the edge of the wet fabric and pulled it back slightly to expose her eyes to him. The ghoul drew closer to her, tilting her head gently back to look further up towards him. Joanna could feel her cheeks flush, anxious under the scrutiny of his gaze.

He stared intently back at her for another moment before splashing the rest of the water ration into her face. The action startled Joanna as the cool water caused her to cough and sputter. 

"I want to get you to Megaton. I think you're overheating."

\-----

The two companions approached the shanty town quickly. Charon presumed any raider would be off somewhere dark and cool, probably shooting up without bothering themselves with the shitty heat. Something he wished his own employer would be more mindful of.

Joanna followed behind him closer than normal, making him uncomfortable. She was young and naive, new to the ways of life in the fallout of the wastes. Her lax attitude in everything she did only highlighted the fact that she was very much a child.

Charon sighed to himself as he watched her shadow swaying uneasily before him. Joanna was vulnerable and seemed to be all too willing to put herself into positions that could leave her to easily be taken advantage of. He wondered if he could break her bad habits in the time he had under her employ.

"What do you want?"

Her question ran over and over in his mind.

In truth, he wasn't sure.

Unfortunately, no raiders ran out to greet them as they passed the dilapidated neighborhood, leaving Charon to brood over her words until they reached Megaton's gates.

Normally, traders would be parked outside a city like this, along with the occasional beggar and scrounger, but no one was around save for a wondering protectron that sparked to life as they neared.

The protectron took a few clanking steps towards them giving one of its preprogrammed lines of greetings to the pair. "Welcome to Megaton. Friendliest town around."

Charon grunted at the machine, holstering his weapon as the gates began to part. The town before him was pretty much how he remembered.

Dry dirt crunched under the weight of his long worn boots. The buildings of the town were hobbled together out of scraps of sheet metal, twisted rebar, and jutting pipes. Although the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, the warmth reflected from the dull metal scrap barricades that surrounded the perimeter, nuking the city from the inside like a Vault-Tec microwave. Megaton pulsed with a latent radiation that made Charon tingle.

This place was cancer. What was worse, this place was apparently Joanna's home.

The ghoul glanced over at Joanna, noticing her flushed skin and chapped lips. Apparently the protectron noticed Joanna's labored condition as well.

The machine clanked around once more, whirling its hands about as it spoke again. "Thirsty partner? Try Moriarty's. Coldest drinks in the Capital Wasteland."

Charon placed a hand behind his employer, steadying her.

"We need to get you out of the heat mistress."

Joanna took a step forward, faltering slightly, even with his bracing support.

"I'm fine," she said, barely a whisper between her dry lips.

As she tried to take another step, her strength failed her, causing Joanna to crumple into Charon's side. He helped her steady herself, taking on most of her weight so she could still stand. Her lips parted in a smile as she pressed her face flush against his front armor plating, breathing a sigh of thanks. Joanna's closeness made the heat under his armor even more pronounced, but if he pushed her away she'd topple over, so instead he held onto her firmly as he assisted her into the city proper.

What a pain in the ass his employer was turning out to be.

\-----

Although Joanna fumbled at his side, she was still able to lead them to a nearby structure, indicating that the particularly large domicile belonged to her. How exactly she had acquired such a large piece of real estate being fairly fresh out of the vault was beyond him, but he wasn't about to ask for details.

"Have a key?" Charon asked as he neared the door, still holding most of Joanna's weight.

"Somewhere..." she sighed, "Just knock. Wadsworth will answer."

Charon narrowed his eyes as he silently mouthed the bizarre name. Who the fuck was Wadsworth?

He bit back yet another question and opted instead to do as she requested, knocking firmly at the closed metal entry.

Within moments, the hinges creaked slowly as the door partially opened to reveal what Charon could only presume was Wadsworth.

A spherical robot hovered in the doorway, one of its metal stalks poked out towards the pair. The shutter over the bots optic lens focused in on Joanna and himself. Charon assumed it was running some kind of scanner, similar to Cerberus in Underworld who was a similar model of robot.

"Oh! Madam! You've returned!" Wadsworth's form retreated back before swinging the door open to let the two inside. Much to Charon's annoyance, this robot's voice was much more animated than the protectron at the front gates.

"If I had known the Madam would be bringing a guest, I would have taken the liberty of preparing some refreshments. Perhaps I should break out the brandy to mark the occasion? Or if Madam prefers-"

Charon helped Joanna inside, paying little mind to the rambling of this Wadsworth character.

The first thing Charon noticed as he stepped into the front room was the instant rush of cool air that greeted them. He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the soft lighting in the room.

There was a fairly well upholstered sofa and large area rug covering a majority of the living space he found themselves in. The front room was spacious, leading back to an open kitchen area and small dinette. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with supplies as well as random bits of Pre-War decor. A large television sat in front of the sofa and coffee table, the back taken off, wires spilling out with tools set nearby.

Charon could see a stairwell that lead up to a full second floor and dangling lights illuminating the tall ceilings of the home. Wadsworth moved easily around to place himself in the center of the room still chatting to deaf ears. Charon was too taken back to remember to care.

How the fuck did Joanna have so much shit? Nice shit?

Megaton was a shithole of a town, but somehow this fresh faced vaultie managed to carve the best piece of it out for herself. He looked to his employer who plopped herself down on a nearby armchair motioning for him to do the same. She clapped her hands together twice and another set of lights flickered to life around the room.

Charon sat himself hesitantly down on the sofa but couldn't manage to make himself comfortable. Not because the seating was uncomfortable, but because Charon just wasn't used to being in a real home before.

The Ninth Circle was just a rundown dive bar. Greta's place, though warm, was still little more than a welcoming hostel. Those were the places that had made up his residency for the past few years. Before Underworld, Charon still had a hard time remembering when he truly was part of a home.

The ghoul looked around again, seeing all sorts of personal touches and items that were of no real practical use. As he rearranged himself, he pushed one of the many decorative throw pillows down into the corner of the sofa, annoyed at their occupancy on the couch as they provided little in the way of support. The place was very...Joanna.

"Something wrong?" He heard his employer ask as she began pulling at her heavier layers of leather covering.

Wadsworth floated by extending a drink out to him, a second in tow for Joanna. Charon took the glass full of crystal clear water. It was cold to the touch. Not just cold, but freezing. Ice floated, clinking around the glass as the robot servant handed off the drink to him.

The last time he saw ice was at Dukov's place. Dukov had been around a long time, fucked around with all the right wrong sorts of people, and dealt in drugs and death. Those are the sorts that can afford to so nonchalantly flaunt their spoils and acquisitions. 

"How long have you been out of the vault?" he asked, taking a cautionary sip of the cold water. Pure. Just like he thought.

"Not long. Maybe around two months. Three? I wasn't keeping track for awhile. A lot has happened in a little time." Joanna held her glass to her face, looking like she was reveling in the coolness.

A few months? How the fuck do you go from nothing but a Pipboy and jumper to...whatever the fuck this all was.

There was something off about this, but he figured he would find out in time. If she was up to something shady he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Like Ahzrukhal, sometimes it was just better if he didn't know.

But still, to crawl out of a hole in the ground, only to be served pure water on a silver platter from a personal Mr. Handy...it made him more than a little annoyed.

In fact, it pissed him off. She pissed him off.

After both of them had finished their glasses, Joanna motioned for him to follow her, announcing she planned on giving him what she called "the grand tour."

Charon reluctantly obeyed following her around as she showed him his new home.

The main level had an additional door he couldn't see before entering the kitchen space. Apparently this lead to a utility closet of sorts and also seconded as a room for Wadsworth to power down in. She pointed out the many folded clothes and fabrics piled in the room, telling him that all washing should go in this room. Joanna mentioned she expected for him to keep his clothes as clean as possible as often as possible.

He sighed to himself, what a showful waste of water. Charon idly wondered if she even realized he only had the one set of clothes, and he wasn't about to part with them easily.

Eventually he was led upstairs. A railed walkway extended over the living room area back to a large platform that held some chairs and what looked to be a workstation of sorts. The workstation had all sorts of strangely shaped tubes and coils, but he couldn't make out many details from across the room.

Although the details were fuzzy, he couldn't help but think it looked much like a chem station. He wouldn't have pegged his employer for a chem dealer, but looking around it now seemed like a plausible theory.

He kept his disapproval to himself as he remained quiet behind Joanna.

In front of the staircase, three doors, all relatively equally spaced laid out before him.

The farthest door was apparently Joanna's room. She didn't open this room to let him see inside but instead guided him to the middle door. This opened up to a small washroom. A tub sat towards the back wall and a toilet and sink sat on the opposite side. According to Joanna the plumbing all worked fine but the water was often cooler than she would like.

Charon snorted. Running water was a luxury and she still managed to find a way to bitch about it. He realized that Joanna was under the impression her bathroom was modest in many ways, where Charon had a better idea of what was normal in the wastelands. A bucket would do her just as well, although he could only picture the face she would make at the thought. This would explain quite a lot about her awkward blustering and bashful avoidance of taking rest stops on the road.

The last door she opened was fairly large and mostly empty. Joanna explained that up till now she didn't have much use for it and had planned on turning it into more storage space. Now that Charon was here to stay, she said it would make a decent bedroom for him once a proper mattress could be found.

Charon walked into the space to take a closer look. The room had a rundown couch and a few empty shelves and cans collected on a nearby end table. An unused ashtray and a dingy suitcase sat near the end of the couch. There was a small alcove at the opposite side of the room that held a rod across the top, a few bent wire hangers sat naked in the closet space.

"This is mine?" Charon questioned taking another long look around the room.

Joanna cocked her head at him. "Well, yes. If you like. Better than shoving you downstairs with Wadsworth anyway." She smiled at him warmly. "I think this room will fit you much better. Of course you can get rid of any of the crap in here. It came with the place. We'll get you a bed and some actual furnishings soon."

Charon wasn't sure how to respond. He hadn't had a room of his own in...ever. It didn't feel right to thank her so he instead simply nodded in approval.

Joanna's smile wavered slightly but overall he figured she was pleased with his response as she turned to lead him back down to the kitchen area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in soooooooooooo long! Jeez...
> 
> But better late than never! I'm dumping at least 3 new chapters tonight on here after the weird break I took. And now we finally get to Megaton :) I'm so excited!


	28. Domestic Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon will have to get used to the comforts of a real home. Joanna will have to readjust her standards of what makes a real home.

As Joanna led her ghoul companion down the steps she felt nowhere near as confident as she had going up.

It's not like she was expecting to get much out of Charon, but she had hoped. She knew the place was far from the standards of the vault she had lived in, but she thought she had done her part to make it seem like a home. The room she was giving to Charon was mostly bare, she hadn't bothered to touch the empty cans or junk items left over from the previous resident.

The ghouls eyes had racked over every inch of the space with the same amount of critical skepticism as he showed down in the decaying tunnels of DC's feral infested subway system. Although he lacked a nose, it was hard not to perceive him thumbing it at her. Low rumblings sounded quietly in his chest following her every word, the only indication he was at least half heartedly listening to her.

Joanna had discarded most of her scraps of leathers at this point and taken off her ill fitting boots to let her aching feet breathe. Her companion, on the other hand, was still armed to the teeth and following closely at her heels, making her feel even smaller than normal. As the two reached back to the kitchen she thanked the layout of the home and its vaulted ceiling for at least providing enough space for Charon's massive frame.

The kitchen was rather tight but still had the room for a small table and chairs. Shelving and worn cabinets lined the walls stocked with dry foods and canned items. Since she hadn't been around, buying fresh food or meat wasn't an option as it would surely spoil well before she could get to it. After her travels on limited amounts of food and water, she discovered a newfound appreciation for her modest stockpile but still couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment at her empty refrigerator.

"Any preferences on food, Charon?" Joanna asked over her shoulder as she rummaged through an open cabinet.

The low grunt she heard in response seemed indifferent enough to assume he didn't care. Although if he did have a preference she guessed he wouldn't share it openly anyway.

Joanna sighed running her fingers over the fading labels of dented Super-Duper Mart cans before falling upon a relatively intact box of BlamCo Mac and Cheese. Her nose crinkled at the thought of serving such a simple thing as a first meal back, but the gnawing of her empty stomach shortened her indecisiveness.

As she set herself to work, Joanna filled the air with nervous chatter, rattling off the location of everything in the kitchen she could think of. Charon sat quietly at the table, letting her chatter freely.

Turning her attention to the sink, she could feel Charon's eyes on her, making her all the more self conscious. Joanna turned the faucet of the sink on. It took a minute before she could hear the pipes gurgle, eventually spitting out a forced trickle of dirty brown water. At the sight, Joanna placed herself as far in front of the sink as she could so Charon couldn't see.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of running the faucet, the water flowed easier and back to a respectable level of clarity. She sighed with a small amount of relief and filled a nearby pot with the tepid liquid.

Joanna had run out of kitchen items to point out so she turned her attention back onto the food.

With the stove turned up all the way, it seemed the water was in no hurry to boil, even under the additional heat of her pleading eyes. Once again, to calm her nerves she decided to try and pry some conversation from the ghoul at her table.

"Do you cook, Charon?"

The ghoul shrugged, stiffly adjusting himself in his chair. "I have the capacity to."

She gave a weak chuckle. "I mean do you enjoy it?"

His response was a firm "No."

Charon's blunt directness was somehow a relief to her as she stared down at the still water.

"Did Ahzrukhal ever make you cook?"

Another firm response quickly answered her.

"No," Charon stated, but after a short pause he changed his sharp reply. "Once," he corrected himself.

"Once? Were you that bad a cook?"

"Ahzrukhal was under the impression I was spitting in the food."

Joanna watched as steam began to surface from the slowly bubbling contents of the pot.

"Did you spit in his food?" She asked, smiling at the thought of such petty actions on his part.

Charon shook his head. "No." Another pause followed before Charon decided to add, "I pissed in it."

At his words Joanna nearly spilled the package of dry noodles onto the countertop. She laughed at the deadpan delivery of such a ridiculous admission from the notoriously stoic man.

"You pissed in it?" She managed to repeat through gasping breaths. "You?" Her cheeks felt flushed with her unabashed laughter. Joanna pictured the large ghoul doing such a foul thing out of pure spite. "That's fucking hilarious."

Charon grunted, nowhere near as amused as she. "It wasn't meant to be funny."

Joanna calmed herself, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "I guess it wouldn't be funny to Ahzrukhal." She felt her nerves clear as conversation flowed more freely between them. "Are you gonna pee in my Sugar Bombs next?" Her grin spread wide on her face.

Charon shrugged, but Joanna could see the faintest smile play at his lips. He looked rather pleased with himself.

"Well I'll keep you far away from my meals just in case." She doled out a large portion of food in a bowl in front of Charon as she spoke, trying to keep him too distracted to notice the hairline cracks in the dishware and flaking scratches of teflon in the Vualt-Tec brand pot. "Besides, I think it would hurt your street cred putting you in a frilly apron. I didn't hire you to cook and clean."

"That's reassuring," Charon said casting a glance over at Wadsworth who was currently preoccupied picking up Joanna's discarded boots.

"Wadsworth will do as you ask if you need anything." Joanna grabbed a bottle of nearby liquor, easily cracking the seal and pouring out a generous amount for Charon. She also placed two bottles of Nuka Cola, and a pitcher of water out on the table. She didn't bother asking if he wanted any, quickly picking up that he made more choices of his own if given access to options and left alone.

Charon eyed the three choices in front of him for some time before finally resting his hand on the full glass of whiskey. Joanna tried to make an internal note of this instance.

As soon as she began to eat she watched as Charon's pace picked up quickly, hungrily devouring what was in front of him. He must have been a lot hungrier than she realized. Her embarrassment began to make itself known once more.

She didn't mean to stare at him but she could focus on little else. How rude must she seem to him?

\-----

Charon let his spoon scrape against the side of his now empty bowl, trying to get as much out of the meal without stooping to licking it clean. He had never been a fan of Pre-War instant fixed foods, but it had been a very long time since he had a hot meal. A pleasant burn from the smooth whiskey washed the bland cheese mix down, much better than the swill Ahzrukhal served his decaying patrons.

Without asking, Joanna filled his bowl back up with what remained in the pot. Charon noticed she hadn't even finished her own much smaller first portion. He accepted the food regardless, slowing his pace to match his employers, suddenly becoming keenly aware of the situation he found himself in.

Not only was this one of the few hot meals he'd had in a long time, but it was the first time he really was sharing a meal with one of his employers. A normal person may have been thankful for the treatment he was receiving, but the generous portions coupled with the strange amount of wealth displayed before him only made him more suspicious of the vault dweller.

After the meal Joanna chatted at him about some of the inhabitants of Megaton, taking the time to clean the bowls and glasses herself. He found it odd she didn't just have her robot butler do it, or ask him, not that he was complaining.

For some time, Charon watched as Joanna began working on the open television set in the front room, listening as she made one sided small talk at him. As to her aim of the project laid before her, he wasn't certain, but he couldn't help but feel a bit of pleasure watching the rhythm behind her fingers. On her wrist, her Pipboy played some of her recorded favorites.

Although she sat on the floor, she was close to him. If he extended his leg fully he could probably kick her square in the ass. He found himself pulling his leg tighter into the couch at the thought of the contact.

Joanna was busy humming along to her music, paying him no mind as her back was turned to him. The nape of her neck was small and exposed by her shorn hair, accentuating the frailty of her narrow shoulders. It wouldn't take more than a well placed hit to break her.

Yet, despite her vulnerability, she sat peacefully nearby.

The domesticity of it all was making him itch.

His fingers stuck into the wedges between his armor, feeling the putty like build up of excess tissue even through the heavy fabric weave. Suddenly he became more aware of his discomfort, and of the smell.

Joanna apparently took note of his agitation.

"It's late," she said plucking away at some wiring on the floor, "You should wash up and get some rest."

Charon took little time to follow her suggestion, beginning to make his way upstairs.

"Charon," Joanna called, still seated on the floor.

"Yes, mistress?"

"The washings an order."

He rolled his eyes, proceeding up the stairs once more. "Yes, mistress."

"And no armor while you sleep!" She yelled up the stairs at him.

"Fuck." He mumbled under his breath as he closed the washroom door behind himself.

\-----

Charon shucked off his armor with little grace, thankful for the space compared to the last time he had tried this particular feat. A mirrored cabinet sat above the sink, he grimaced as he caught a side glimpse of his ruined face. Sickened, he opened the cabinet so he didn't have to face the mirror any longer.

Although he felt like he was being nosey, he supposed he should become familiar with everything in the small room as he scanned the medicine cabinet's contents.

There were basic medical supplies and various personal hygiene products, a mix of both Pre-War salvage and homemade remedies. Nothing very telling or particularly odd.

Charon looked towards the tub, feeling a weight form in his chest. In Rivet City he had been able to use the small shower to haphazardly bathe closing his eyes and letting the shower head do most of the work for him. The tub, however, felt much more...unsettling.

Sitting bare assed soaking in a pool of his own disgusting ghoul juices made what was left of his skin crawl.

He could faintly hear the distant music of Joanna's Pipboy playing from downstairs. Charon breathed a little easier knowing there was much more distance put between his unarmored body and Joanna. Now that his armor was completely off he choked down the urge to vomit up the richness of the food and booze laying heavily in his stomach.

Still feeling uneasy, Charon watched the tub fill with lukewarm water. The heat from outside and long distance traveling had formed a putrid grime in the more translucent areas of his body. He sat scrapping out the clear rot that solidified around his joints, peeling back the thickened sweat or whatever the fuck this stuff was. He didn't like to think about it. One thing he missed about Underworld, and maybe the only thing, was the damp coolness that kept his skin at least tolerable to live in.

As soon as the murky water filled the tub, Charon submerged as much of himself as he could deep into the water. He had kept his eyes shut as he took off his clothes and kept them shut until he felt he was as far in as he could go. Peaking his eyes open, it was painfully obvious that he was much too large to comfortably sit. His legs were folded up, sticking out of the water awkwardly. He felt like an overgrown child.

Scrubbing at his skin made the water even dirtier. He scrubbed until his skin was painful and tender in a futile attempt to get as much of the ghoul stench off him as he could.

Soon he heard the feint music increase in volume, realizing Joanna must be getting closer.

Quickly he bolted upright, clumsily clambering to his feet. Water sloshed out of the tub as he nearly tripped on his way out, ankle catching the ledge of the slippery surface. All he needed was Joanna to catch him face first sprawled naked on the floor. She would either die of laughter or die of fright. Either way, Charon didn't want to find out.

He dressed with breakneck speed, uncaring that his soaking form made his dirty old clothing damply stick to his mostly clean body.

The music was much louder, stopping just outside the door, before a gentle knock beat against the metal.

Charon opened the door, apparently to Joanna's surprise.

Her mouth hung open as she looked him up and down. He swallowed hard feeling out of breath, water dripped from the tips of his hair, falling into his eyes as he blinked the droplets away.

"I brought you a towel," she said meekly glancing down to look at the puddle of water forming at his feet. "Maybe it's a little late now."

Charon grabbed the towel from her hands, draping it over his shoulders to cover himself more.

"I'll clean up the water," he said not wanting to look directly at his employer.

Instead of berating him or making some belittling comment she instead smiled. "Wadsworth will get to that. You can head to bed. I'll be in my room if you need me." She gave him another purposeful look over before adding, "We'll get you some more clothes soon too...and maybe burn these." Joanna lightly plucked at part of his shirt sleeve.

Charon jerked his arm away from her touch, putting an additional foot of space between them.

Joanna cleared her throat before wishing him pleasant dreams, leaving him wet and alone for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love slice of life things. As these two get closer to each other I'm looking forward to expanding upon every day living in the fallout! :)


	29. Choppin' That Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon isn't used to living in a home, or in his own skin. 
> 
> He tries to let things go and Swing for the first time...

Charon returned to his room, leaving behind a few puddles of water and some of the dirtier pieces of his armor for Wadsworth to attend to.

His room.

It felt weird to think he had a room of his own and some Mr. Handy to attend to his messes. Charon wasn't sure what kind of place Joanna would have, but he certainly wasn't expecting what he found.

Wadsworth floated by beginning to wipe the floors up from the bath water.

"Heading to bed are we sir? Would the sir like a night cap or-"

"Fuck off." Charon grunted closing the door on the robot.

"Right then." Wadsworth replied cheerily outside the door. "Goodnight sir!"

As he looked around his new living quarters, Charon noticed a few of the items had been shifted around as he was in the bath. Some of the cushions from the sofa had been laid down on the floor with a tidy pile of makeshift blankets and pillows to form a nest of sorts.

Charon sat with his back against the bottom of the sofa on the floor, trying his best to towel himself dry. His clothes were pretty damp from the water and made the surrounding blankets moist. The air was cool allowing his freshly scrubbed skin to breathe. As much as he hated being out of his armor, it did feel better on his worn body.

Though it was getting very late, Charon couldn't manage to find sleep, so instead he sat up listening to the feint music through the wall. Joanna's Pip-Boy was still on and the walls were flimsy enough to allow him to hear the lyrics clearly.

He settled down further into his bundle of sheets, inhaling deeply. Joanna's scent filled his lungs, urging him to take a second longer breath in. With the sound of her Pip-Boy so clearly ringing in his head it felt like she was in the room with him. His mind drifted back to their uncomfortably close night in Rivet City.

"What do you want?" Joanna's voice played over and over in his head.

Charon sighed, pressing his face into the towel in his hands.

Right now, as he sat relaxed in his relatively comfortable surroundings, he wanted nothing more than to recapture the dream he had during the night in Doctor Li's room. Warm, exploring hands traveling down the side of his face, tickling his neck, drawing down the front of his chest. The memory of his foggy dream stirred the more imaginative side of his brain, causing his blood to pulse hotly through his veins.

Try as he may, Charon still couldn't rekindle that tiny flame of pleasure back into his body fully. His mind may appreciate his attempts at conjuring images of naked skin chasing primal urges, but the rest of him felt miles away.

It didn't help that he was totally reluctant to touch himself, or even to confront his ghoulish complexion. No, instead he tried harder to picture other people's skin. Nice and intact and young...skin like Joanna's.

"Fuck," Charon quietly cursed to himself as he pressed his face further into the towel. He lifted his head up to pull himself back to reality, back to his damp clothes and radiation wrecked person.

His eyes caught sight of his pocketed under vest he had taken with him out of the restroom. Charon pulled the material to him, tracing the lining of the pockets with the tips of his fingers. These pockets contained some of his few personal possessions.

Charon tucked his index into the seam of his topmost pocket, feeling the lump he was searching for. He slipped the chunk of crystal from the vest into his open palm.

Swing. The drug he had lifted from Dukov's place as the bald partier had passed out after boasting about its effectiveness, namely its sexual potency.

Charon rolled the translucent lump between his fingers, dully exploring the ragged edges of the unusual crystalline form. It didn't seem like much, not like the sharp needles and bright colors of the drugs Charon was familiar with. The ghoul pinched his digits together noting the subtle tackiness that developed between them.

Curiously, he brought his thumb up to his ruined lips, tracing it in silent contemplation. On the edge of his lips, he could taste a feint sweetness, barely a whisper, but still present even to his rad-numbed taste buds. In a mindless gesture, Charon drew his thumb into his mouth.

Candy. It tasted like candy. A sickly sweet taste of artificial sugar coated his tongue, that and some other flavor he just couldn't place.

After a few moments, the initial biting sweetness dulled until the taste left his mouth entirely, leaving only the miserable texture of his bare thumb against his tongue. He popped the offensive digit out, blanching at the thought of his own taste.

He inspected the drug closer, bringing it to the edge of his mouth. His tongue snaked out past his teeth to lightly flick the crystal. The sharp sweet taste hit him hard once more, causing him to pull back from the lump.

This was just fucking sugar. That fucking old merc was probably just getting his jollies off, making the stupid ghoul believe in magic beans. What an asshole.

Charon shook his head at his own stupidity, putting any amount of belief into the words of an old letch. Still, he rolled the chunk in his fingers feeling agitated by the building curiosity still lingering in his mind. As much as he doubted Dukov, especially a drunk Dukov, he couldn't totally dismiss the idea that this could very well be a new chem on the market. 

Even given the benefit of the doubt, if this was a chem, if Dukov's party drug really worked, how was he supposed to take it? Was this something he was supposed to smoke, or snort?

The ghoul hung his head, chuckling low in his throat. Was he really entertaining this idea? He must be out of his fucking mind. And to what? Get off because Doctor Barrows said so?

This was sick. He was sick.

Charon closed his eyes again, listening to the music drifting in from Joanna's room.

"What do you want?" Her phantasm voice echoed in his head.

He didn't need anything, didn't need any of this...but he wanted, he desired, and it hurt.

"I want this to work," he muttered to himself as he popped the sweet chem into his dry mouth, "I need this to work."

\-----

Charon sat through a few songs, working the sweet mass around his mouth. Nothing seemed to be happening as he fumbled around on top of his sheets, becoming increasingly impatient with his experiment.

Although his sheets were still a bit damp from the excess water, they felt comfortable as he ran his hands through them, smoothing the wrinkles down. Once the blankets were smoothed out, his hands found the sides of his thighs and began running the length of his clothed legs.

The fabric was well worn and still moist, but the material felt so much softer under his hands than he remembered. His open palms flattened against his upper thigh, pressing hard and slow into his muscles. He had no idea how sore he was until he began kneading the aches and knots out of his legs, humming contently as he went.  Joanna's music was slow and sweet in his ears, aiding in his unwinding tension.

Perhaps the drug was actually beginning to work, or maybe this was just a pleasant placebo effect; either way, Charon was too busy to care, feeling nerves sparking to life he hadn't noticed in years. There was a mix of pain and pleasure in his tender prodding.

"Fuuuck," Charon exhaled as he increased the pressure as he pressed down on bruised flesh near Doctor Barrows old incision areas. His mind ached for more contact, more pressure, as he worked through the fabric harder.

Normally, Charon was horribly adverse to removing his clothing, never wanting to face the sobering reality of his condition, but the fabric was now a barrier to his wandering hands. He carefully began wriggling his hips free of his pants, pulling until, inch by inch, his skin was exposed to the cool night air. He lifted his hips, allowing the material to scrunch down further to his knees. At this point, Charon would normally keep his eyes tightly shut, but he was feeling brave. He cast his eyes down to take in the sight of himself.

Charon felt his heart swell in his chest, a sharp pang of raw emotion as his soft member sat between his legs. Even though the chem in his mouth was incredibly sweet, he felt nothing but bitter.

The skin of his abdomen was pulled taught over red musculature that pulsed with fat blue veins running down to his genitals. His penis itself he felt was as mangled looking as the rest of him. His foreskin had long since fallen off, sometime before his nose, he vaguely remembered with a shudder. Outer layers of skin and cartridge were areas that ghoulification wreaked havoc on. All things considered, he was surprised he even had a dick really.

His skin was very delicate here, looking like white pallid tissue, so thin he feared if erect it would tear. Under the paper thin corpse colored skin, the length of him was red and ropey, like raw meat.

Charon felt a grotesque curiosity as he looked at the base of himself, the area that gave him the most concern. The junction between his pelvis and dick lost a majority of cushioning flesh. Now, an odd part of ligament sat exposed, running taught between his pubic bone and the root of himself. If he stretched back, the sinew visibly strained as it pulled at the hanging weight it tethered. Although his scrotal skin was far from what he remembered, his testicles were firmly attached by some sort of fibrous muscle overrun with small branching blood vessels.

The sight was repulsive to himself. Despite the anatomy being human, he felt far from normal.

At this point, Charon would have pulled his pants back up, sobered and disgusted with himself. But Charon kept his pants at his knees, unwilling to back down in the face of this old familiar hurtle.

His hands moved to press down against his legs, drawing into his inner thighs. The warmth of his skin egging him to continue on.

Charon's head hit the back of the sofa ledge as he bit back a pained wince. His thumb brushed against the dead weight that still hung limply in his lap. It wasn't physically painful, but part of him expected it to be. Carefully, he let himself wrap his hand around himself, feeling a small pulse run through his shaft as he did.

The ghoul sat staring at himself in hand like it was new to him, and in a way it was. For the first time in a long while, he was okay with it. He was okay with himself.

It wasn't good. Definitely not good, he thought as he experimentally tugged a bit at the appendage, but it wasn't that bad either.

Feeling embolden by his rediscovery, Charon grasped firmly to work in earnest.

He could feel his blood rushing, pulsing hotly in his hands as he worked to match his rhythm with the increasing pace of his heart. His heart that pounded oddly fast for how little he was doing.

Before Charon could worry over his quickening heart rate, the lyrics of Joanna's music cut through the fog in his head.

_He keeps hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

The ghoul let go of himself instantly, jerking his hand back as if he had just burned himself on a red hot stove.

_He keeps hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

His heart leapt at the words, guilt and embarrassment washing over him in droves as he struggled to pull up his pants.

_He keeps hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

Charon buried his face in his open palms feeling his heart drilling in his chest.

_He just hacks, whacks, choppin' that meat_

What terrible timing. The song Butcher Pete mocked him with its upbeat tempo and ironic lyrics, but what was worse, it wouldn't stop.

Charon found himself on his feet, pacing back and forth in his room to the music. His heart continuing to beat. Faster and faster and faster it beat until he was short of breath and clasping at his chest.

Over and over the music continued from Joanna's room, as if she knew.

She knew. She knew and he knew she knew.

The ghouls pacing picked up more speed, tightening until he was spinning in circles at the center of the room. His head was swimming, hands shaking, heart racing, and she knew. She knew and she was mocking him.

_The Butcher Pete is a crazy man_

_Tries to chop down the wind and the rain_

_Just hacks on anything he can get_

_Say, turn this record over, you ain't heard nothing yet_

And again the same song repeated. The same mocking verses, the same shitty fucking tune. And that bitch knew it!

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He repeated as he covered his ears, willing the music to end. But it didn't. It lingered like the chemical sweetness that still rolled around in his mouth, clacking at the back of his chattering teeth.

He picked up a discarded tin can in his trembling hands, spitting the Swing out into the empty container, setting it down on the end table with a harsh metallic clank. The sound, the feeling, everything was too much and he feared his heart would soon be overwhelmed.

Charon quickly bolted towards the door, making his way to the source of his misery. His employers room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to add more custom content to the Fallout universe in future updates. 
> 
> Poor Charon...his trip isn't going well...  
> should be able to post another soon!


	30. Thrown for a Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna gets a surprise visit from Charon in the night.

Joanna sat replaying Butcher Pete for what seemed like the sixth time now. Her finger tapped lightly at the Pip-Boy screen, cheeks flushing with her annoyance.

_Hey everybody, did the news get around_

_About a guy named Butcher Pete_

"Shit," she cursed tapping harder at the screen. The damn thing was stuck in a loop and she was too proud to admit she hadn't much of an idea of how to fix it.

Propping herself onto her elbow, she muttered another curse contemplating what to do next. Charon seemed to know about Pip-Boy functions, although it was obvious he didn't plan on sharing how he acquired his information. But even if Charon knew, Joanna was too embarrassed to have him fix it for her. She was tired of him fixing things for her, especially something so personal.

_Oh, Pete just flew into this town_

_And he's choppin' up all the women's meat_

Joanna played with one of the dials on her little machine, making the situation worse. Now the music grew louder and the yellow light that had appeared on the Pip-Boy when the problem first began was starting to blink. Quickly, she tried to reverse her actions, effectively getting rid of the blinking yellow light, but now it turned a solid orange.

"What the fuck..." Joanna whispered as she heard the song now repeat the same clipped verses over and over, as if the song couldn't get any more annoying.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

She tried to cover her arm to muffle the sound hoping she wasn't keeping Charon up. It was hard to tell over the sound of the music, but she thought she could hear noises coming from his room.

The Pip-Boy light stayed its orange color despite her fumbling. What does orange mean? She bit the inside of her cheek trying to get the music to at least pause to let her think...

BANG!

The ear piercing strike of metal hitting metal caused Joanna to jolt upright in her bed. Her heart had skipped a beat, but the music continued unhindered.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

BANG!

Another strike sounded as her door was flung open a second later, hitting hard against the wall of the room.

In her panic Joanna almost couldn't recognize the figure at her now open door. Her tall ghoul companion's stance was now much different than his dripping deflective self just earlier that evening...

Charon took little time striding over to her bedside with purpose. A gasp caught in her throat, or maybe it was a shriek; regardless, whatever noise wanted to escape her only managed to choke Joanna into silence.

Confusion was plainly painted over her face as Charon stood looming over her seated form. Charon's eyes were always glazed over with a milky hue, a part of his ghoulificaiton, but even through the film she could see the outlining of his pupils blown wide. His mouth moved slightly forming muttering words she strained to hear over the music.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

He looked torn, as if a war raged within him, keeping him a distance from herself with some obvious strain on his behalf. Joanna tried hard to read what was left of his lips as he formed his silent words.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she managed to project her voice over the malfunctioning Pip-Boy.

"Charon?" she asked as his mouth stopped forming his soundless refrain, "What do you want?"

This seemed to snap the tension that held Charon in place, causing him to press close to the bedside.

"Take it off," his voice was sharp and surprisingly coherent considering his earlier mumblings.

Joanna opened her mouth to respond but was quickly cut off by the ghoul.

"TAKE IT OFF," his voice rose to a level she didn't think him capable of, causing her to shake violently. Charon put his knees on the bed moving to crowd Joanna's space. She pushed herself in the opposite direction, holding her arms around herself tightly.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

"Charon..." she breathed quickly, feeling tears collecting at the corners of her eyes, "What-"

He struggled as he made no extra move to follow her as she pressed herself far into the wall, but pointed at the arms that laid folded across her chest.

"Take it off. Give it to me. Take it off. Now. Take it off now." Charon repeated religiously, practically hissing through his clenched teeth.

He was still pointing at her chest.

Joanna was scared. He was scaring her. She could tell him to stop, give him a command to twist whatever psychological leash held him normally at bay, but didn't she offer this to him? Her open offer of rewarding him, of payment for his deeds, didn't she owe him this?

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

Joanna struggled as she began to slowly unfold her arms away from her chest, feeling Ahzrukhal's bite burn at her collar. She told him, she offered him this, like she had done before with others, people far less worthy...but this? She didn't think it would be like this, not with him. She didn't think he would be like this.

A few tears streaked down her cheeks, but she swallowed down her objections. If she didn't cry during her payment at the Ninth Circle, then she wasn't going to now. Only her bottom lip was permitted to tremble as the rim of her eyes grew redder.

"Is this..." Joanna undid a few of the bottoms on her flannel shirt, "Is this really what you want, Charon?"

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

Charon used one of his open palms to clutch at his head, breathing heavy as if in pain.

"Quickly. Now. Take it off. Take it off now." Charon's voice sounded worn, pleading almost.

Her fingers tried to comply with his request but struggled all the way down her shirt. She shifted a free arm out of one sleeve trying desperately to free the other. The bulk of her Pip-Boy caught the shirt, preventing her from being able to take off the garment.

"Shit," she breathed as she clumsily worked at the latch that held the Vault-Tec instrument to her forearm.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

"Faster, take it off now," Charon's voice was cracking, breaking into impatient begging.

"I'm trying," she sniffled, finding her tears beginning to dry, "I'm trying Charon."

Finally, she slipped her arm out of the vice grip of the Pip-Boy, allowing the machine to fall to the bed, snaking her other arm out of her shirt.

She expected the ghoul to grab at her, pull her breasts from the rest of her coverings, reopen the old wound Ahzrukhal had left her with...but instead Charon's hand darted out to the Pip-Boy, totally ignoring Joanna's half state of undress.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

Snatching up the small personal computer, Charon let out a rumbling growl. She felt herself bounce on the worn mattress as Charon's weight abruptly lifted off from the bed.

The ghoul began his incoherent muttering once more as he crossed the room to Joanna's desk.

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

_He keeps hackin' and whackin' and smackin'_

Joanna could only watch silently from her position on the bed, too confused and overwhelmed with emotion to think straight. Before the next looped verse, Charon held the Pip-Boy just above his head before bringing it down hard on the desktop.

The first strike caused the music to warp, distorting slightly before pressing on, the second strike leaving the voice on the speaker cracking into sharp static, and the third left them in total silence. In her current position, Joanna could see the light on the Pip-Boy die with the sound.

Charon's muttering stopped as well, leaving the ghoul breathing shakily as he leaned over the desk next to the damaged Pip-Boy. His back was turned to Joanna, but he looked notably relieved in the momentary silence. The tension in the room began to dissolve.

Joanna took a shaky step towards the desk, covering her front with her discarded flannel. She saw the Pip-Boy on the desk, her finger traced down a long crack that formed on the black screen.

It was the Pip-Boy he wanted? She clutched the shirt tighter to her chest.

Charon walked out of the room before she even had a chance to confront him, closing the door on his way out more gently than he had entering.

Joanna was left alone. No music, no Pip-Boy, no words.

\------

Charon closed the door behind him breathing deeply, trying his best to calm himself. His conditioning was twisting with his impulses, leaving him feel torn. It was as if he was in control and yet totally out of control at the same time.

He had frightened Joanna. Even through his spiraling mental state he could see her visibly shaken by his harshness, no doubt afraid for her very life. Again, Charon took a shaky breath in as he pressed his back against the door, letting it out as slowly and evenly as he could.

His conditioning ran deep; he didn't touch her, could never bring himself to harm her, but the way she looked...terrified and small, crumpled up on the bed doing as he told her...

Charon looked down past his shaking hands to the hard bulge that lay between his legs. Pressing tightly against the constricting fabric, his full erection made itself known.

There was no passion behind the blood that rushed to his groin, no sense of physical pleasure that coaxed this response. This was just another instance of his disgusting mutated body betraying him.

"Is this really what you want, Charon?" Joanna's voice had asked him through her tearful lashes only moments ago.

"No." Charon stated firmly to himself. This was not what he wanted, but it's what he got.

His wish of proving himself a functioning man was a step closer to completion but he couldn't bring himself to try and find the end. Instead, Charon laid down on his rumpled mess of sheets trying his best to will his erect state away.

The can he had spit the piece of Swing in laid nearby on the end table. He wondered just how long the drug took to go away. Why the fuck did he do such a reckless thing? To feel normal again?

He looked down at his crotch, seeing the sheets tent at the protrusion.

This didn't make him feel normal. He didn't feel like a man. If anything, he felt more like a monster than he had in a long, long time.

Sleep never found him as he stared at the ceiling, practicing what words he planned to say to his employer come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to add more soon. :)


	31. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna and Charon both deal with the morning after their awkward ordeal.

Joanna laid down staring into the darkness of her room. She had already shed a few tears over the loss of her Pip-Boy but her grieving had been short lived. After leaving the vault the first thing she learned was to adapt to change. This new loss would leave a sizable vacancy, after all she had that Pip-Boy since she was ten, but she had more pressing concerns that required her full attention. Joanna couldn't spare the energy on being upset or holding grudges. No, there was no use in crying over spilt milk. Right now she had a puzzle to solve: Charon.

His behavior was far from normal, not that she had ever expected a contractually obligated ghoul body guard to be normal, she expected him to be odd from the start. What she didn't expect was Charon's level of unpredictability. Under Ahzrukhal's thumb, it sounded as if Charon's life was just one long routine dotted with the occasional command. Ahzrukhal had mentioned he was brainwashed, that Charon's obedience was due to choices made and his treatment was punishment earned.

"Chains are earned, never forced." Isn't that what Ahzrukhal said? Was Charon the kind of person that needed chains?

Joanna turned fitfully. Even after his years in Underworld, Ahzrukhal couldn't predict Charon's behavior once he turned those chains over to her. Charon's release ended in Ahzrukhal's demise. But Joanna thought about all the things he had done, all the times he saved her and protected her, even before she officially became is employer. She had to wonder just how much autonomy Charon really retained.

Her cheeks felt flush as she gripped her shirt, pulling it tightly around herself. Embarrassment flooded through her as she recalled her misinterpretation of Charon's earlier ramblings. It seemed like she was always reading Charon's actions incorrectly. All the times she thought he was implying something he really wasn't, from their night at Rivet City to now, made her blush. Joanna was normally so good at interacting with people, so good at interpreting even the smallest social cues, but with Charon she felt so tactless.

Joanna rose from her bed, preparing herself to start the day despite her tired bones. Her heart still raced from the thought of confronting her ghoul companion, and to tell the truth, she wasn't too sure how to handle him. For now, she decided the best thing she could do was step away from the puzzle.

\-----

Charon could hear his employer stir, footfalls lightly treading on the bare floor, cautionary in their pacing. He sighed heavily, not wanting to face the owner of those uncertain steps.

Dressing took little time, although several of his larger pieces of armor still remained with the damn robot downstairs, but his outfitting was serviceable enough. Soon, the tiny padding of feet landed outside his room, stopping right on the other side of his closed door.

Charon readied himself.

Instead of a gentle knock on his door, a slip of paper whispered through the sliver of space between the bottom and the floor. The light steps retreated quickly down the stairs until Charon couldn't hear them anymore.

Grabbing the slip of paper he read through the few hastily scribbled words.

_Went to the market. I'll be back soon. Please keep Wadsworth company until then._

Charon crushed the paper in his hand, smirking bitterly.

_Stay here. I don't trust you._ That's what she meant.

The ghoul tossed the paper wad to the floor chuckling darkly. At least last night knocked a little sense into her, and in the end, that would make his job easier.  

As soon as he felt his employer was truly gone, Charon made his way out of his room, heading down to his employers instead.

Although he had been in Joanna's room the night before, he couldn't recall details. It's not like he was in his right mind to begin with. Looking around with sober eyes was very telling.

There were filing cabinets, large and labeled against the wall. He poked through the first few, gob smacked by what he found. These drawers contained hoards of chems, more than he had ever seen in one place. All kinds of drugs were boxed and wrapped, packaged better than normal junkie stashes. In a separate drawer, Charon found rows of unusual paper wrappings. Peeling some of the paper back from the long tube like items, he found that these were rows of paper bound stacks of bottle caps. Charon's earlier assumptions of the origins of his employers wealth seemed confirmed by his findings. Joanna must be a chem dealer.

He shook his head, trying his best to push away his rising anxiety over the amounts of questions and danger this information brought. Charon wasn't poking around to judge his employer and he certainly couldn't do much about it. He closed the drawers back up wishing he could have remained ignorant just a little bit longer.

Besides the copious amounts of chems, there were stacks of intact magazines, books, and tons of holotapes around the room placed in boxes and stacked neatly on shelves. He idly wondered what use she had for any of these items, but continued his searching.

Finally, underneath the bed he found what he had been looking for. Joanna's damaged Pip-Boy.

\--------

Joanna made her way just outside Megaton's gates. Her arm felt naked without the weighted heat of her Pip-Boy but she did her best to ignore it.

The sun was only beginning to rise and few of Megaton's residents stirred, but outside the gates was a different story. Canopies were already pitched, local traders and farmers were set up having used the early hours of the morning to travel without being baked by the heat. There was a constant hum of chatter and low mooing from the brahmin that hauled the wares of the surrounding neighboring communities.

Typically, the residents of Megaton often were not found here in the early hours of the market. Joanna had found that mostly the business owners within the city made use of the deals they could broker for supplies, buying in bulk to racket up the prices in town for travelers and the convenience for locals. She made her way around looking for fresh ingredients and pieces of unusual tech before anyone else came to snatch away the better finds.

As she picked through the local mutated produce, she overheard the different caravans discussing rumors and gossip.

"Have you seen Fred at all?" a caravan hand asked one of the local farmers.

"Wilks? Nah. Not for some time now. Bet he got the water sickness. Told them Greyditch folk to dig a new well, but they don't listen. Said they got bigger problems," the farmer scoffed, "Crops are glowin' more than growin' in that shit field of theirs."

"Just sold that Brandice guy a new weapon 'bout a week ago," another merchant chimed in, "Maybe they're havin' raider troubles. You know them junkies near 'em are always pickin' fights."

"Got my own troubles," the farmer spat, "Fool Grayditcher's shoulda' moved on when the first well ran dry. Only thing runnin' in that soil is bad luck. Raiders are welcome to it."

Joanna paid little mind to the rumblings of the toughened farmhands and scavvers. Gathering up what she wanted and heading back to her home, she felt lighter than she had earlier even with full bags weighing her down.

\------

Charon worked diligently at the small kitchen table, fixing up Joanna's Pip-Boy faster than he thought.

The damage wasn't very extensive, it seemed he only knocked around a few internal pieces. The screen was cracked and would need to be replaced, but that wouldn't interfere with the device running properly.

"Could I fetch you a drink Sir? We have a lovely aged-"

"Fuck off." Charon cut off Wadsworth from his continued pestering. He hadn't shut up since he had first began working downstairs.

"Right then." Wadsworth still floated around the tiny kitchen, picking up glasses and spot cleaning them. "Sir, perhaps I could be of some assistance? RobCo manufactured items are no General Atomics. Why I'm certain I could-"

"Fuck off." Charon repeated, tiring of the bot.

"Right then." Wadsworth cheerily rang in response adding quietly, "-not like I want to help anyway."

Before Charon could catch Wadsworth on his way out of the small kitchen, the front door opened, revealing Joanna with arms full.

"Madam! I see your market trip was a success. Let me attend to those bags," he chirped eagerly, muttering, "Finally someone with a whit of civility-"

Charon grumbled but went back to work on the Pip-Boy.

"Morning mistress," he muttered as she approached the table he worked at.

"You're fixing it?" she asked coming to sit down beside him, "Is it even able to be fixed?"

"The Pip-Boy 3000A is basic but sturdy. Someone has stripped a few parts from yours and made some modifications leaving it less than optimized..." he turned the device around in his hands, "but I am nearly done. The rest of the damage is purely cosmetic."

"You know an awful lot about Pip-Boys, don't you Charon?"

The ghouls hands stilled as he finessed a tiny tool into the back panel. "I suppose."

"You couldn't have just turned it off last night then?" she asked, "You know...instead of smashing it?"

He cleared his throat, still uncertain of how to go about answering this.

"Yes. I could have."

"But you didn't."

"No. I did not."

Joanna tapped her fingers on the table as they spoke. Charon couldn't look up to meet her eyes.

"Why not?" she pressed.

Charon paused for a moment before responding.

"I...was not in a proper state of mind, Mistress. It will not happen again."

"I thought so..." Joanna trailed off.

Charon nervously fidgeted with the small tools on the table. "So you knew?" He thought the paranoia was part of the chem use, he hadn't thought she really knew about his activities during the previous night. His heart ran fast in his chest.

"Of course," Joanna sighed, "Your sleep disorder or whatever it is...I should have known better than to wake you."

"My...what?" Charon repeated, surprised by her response.

"Yeah. You sleep weird, or not at all, or...I don't know. I thought it was like a weird sleepwalking thing. Is that what it is?"

It was true. Charon had odd sleeping habits and had been told by several of his unusual acts during the night, but he was unaware she knew of that at all. Charon was silently thankful for being handed such a perfect scapegoat.

"Yes. Yes, that's what happened."

He looked up to find Joanna smiling at him, genuine and warm. Lying to Ahzrukhal was so much easier, but telling her the truth would be so much harder.

For now, Joanna didn't need to know about his feelings or chem experimentation. No more chasing the idea he could be more than what he was currently, a ghoul and her employee. No amount of chems would change that.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and once again Joanna comes to the wrong conclusion.
> 
> I like to think of there being a marketplace outside of Megaton for nearby traders, farmers, and traveling merchants. :)


	32. Where There's Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is Moira. 
> 
> Charon and Joanna check out some hot potatoes.

By midday Joanna had led Charon over to Craterside Supply, one of the local shops near the center of town. Once again she warned him of the eccentric shop owner as they made their way up one of the rickety metal ramps that lead towards their destination.

"She's a bit different but she's been really good to me. So just," she looked him over sighing exasperated, " behave I guess."

The ghoul rolled his eyes sarcastically. "As if I care to even talk to this woman at all."

"Just don't agree to any of her experiments, no matter how much fun she claims they would be..."

"What?" Charon asked but received no answer as Joanna had already stepped into the store front.

Craterside Supply was overflowing with all sorts of, from what Charon could see, junk. Odd bits and ends were packed in every nook and cranny, collecting varying layers of dust the farther back items went. The air was thick with the scent of mothballs and heavy musk of old wood. He could hear a few loud thumps from upstairs and a muffled squealing of sorts.

A heavily armored man was leaned against one of the few spaces of empty wall, casting his gaze over to Charon. The ghoul looked back matching the man's intensity. The man nodded, looking away from Charon, apparently appeased by their silent understanding of each other's position.

Joanna walked further into the room, partially leaning forward to call up the stairs.

"Moira? Hey, Moira! Are you up there?"

"Just be a sec!" A cheery voice called unseen from upstairs.

A loud crash sounded from above and the muffled squeals turned into a sharp animalistic whine. After another loud thump the whine ended in an unsettling silence.

Soon two blue pant legs appeared at the top of the steps, coming down to reveal a scrawny looking woman dressed in a well worn RobCo jumper.

"Okie dokie," the red head chirped, wiping off her hands on some piece of old cloth, "what can I- Oh! It's you!" The strange woman beamed at the sight of Joanna, bouncing the rest of her way down the stairs. "I was hoping I'd see you! Thought maybe you died!" the red head tittered as she pulled Joanna in for one of the most awkward hugs he'd ever had to witness.

"Well you know, takes more than a few explosions and deadly radiation to kill me." Joanna half heartedly laughed in the odd embrace she seemed to be trying to squirm out of.

"Ain't that the truth! Number one assistant for sure!" the woman Charon guessed to be Moira let Joanna go, unfortunately taking notice of his presence near the door. He wondered if it was too late to step outside and let his employer conclude whatever business she was here for.

"Oh! You brought a friend!" Moira bounded up to him, her energetic display already making Charon tired. "Boy, you sure are a big fella' aren't you? Gotta be the biggest ghoul I've ever seen!" Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Say, do you think you could lend me a hand? I could use a ghoul for my studies and I think you would just be absolutely perfect!"

"That's Charon and he's busy assisting me at the moment." Joanna interjected much to Charon's relief.

"Well darn. Don't find many ghouls out Megaton way. Wonder why..." Moira looked curiously away before shrugging. "Oh well, what can I do for you?"

"We need some supplies for Charon. He's going to be living with me here in Megaton so he'll at least need a bed."

"But your home already has a bed silly! Oh," Moira looked Charon up and down, studying him with a low hum, "I guess I see the problem. He's a bit...tall isn't he?"

"Well yes, I suppose..." Joanna replied.

"Well that's easy! We can just add on to the bed that's already there. Then there'll be plenty of room. Problem solved!" Moira clapped her hands delightedly.

"Wait, no." Joanna shook her head, "No, problem not solved. We need a second bed for him. Not modifying mine. A second bed, Moira. Two." His employer held up two fingers in the air, emphasizing as she mouthed the number slowly for the red head.

"Oh. A second bed? I guess that makes sense," Moira nodded affirmatively, "You know I thought you were just the nostalgic type, but obviously you're more into Pre-War living than I thought! Separate couples beds would really tie the theme together! A little bit of a strange request but who am I to judge? Oh! Matching linens! It'll take some time to pull off but-"

"Matching linens? Moira-" Joanna stopped, shaking her head before continuing, "Can you or can you not make a bed to fit Charon?"

Moira cocked her head, once again roaming her eyes over Charon's form. It made him twitch a little uncomfortably.

"Well...it may take a bit of time and an awful lot of sewing but I think we can manage," Moira frowned a bit, "Oh, but I can't. Or at least I can't right now."

"Why not?" his employer asked the sulking red head.

"I was working on a big project for Dr. Lesko. You know, smarty pants guy from Grayditch? Well he comes in and has me working my fingers to the bone and still hasn't bothered to pick up his order! I have half a mind to sell it off to someone else!" Moira sighed, "Anyway, I don't have the room to be working on another big project until he comes to pick the darn thing up. Say, I have an idea!" Moira once again perked up. "Why don't you head on over to Grayditch and give that Dr. Lesko a kick in those smarty pants of his for me? With that project out, it outta free up enough space for me to work on your linens!"

"Mattress. I need a mattress. Can't we just deliver it for him?"

Moira shook her head, "'fraid not. Dr. Lesko said he had specific plans for the project and didn't want any old so and so to lay hands on his precious equipment." Moira sniffed the air indignantly, "Why he even had the nerve to call me an amateur scientist! Shows what he knows, I science all the time!"

"Fine. Charon and I will see this Lesko guy. Just be prepared to get to work when we get back," Joanna replied motioning for Charon to follow her out the door, something he was all too eager to do.

"Super! Good hunting out there!" the energetic red head called as she waved them off.

"Mistress?" Charon spoke low to Joanna as they exited.

"Yes Charon?"

"Are we not going to inquire about the noises coming from upstairs?"

Joanna turned to Charon, her eyes darkly serious. "No. No we are not."

Turning on her heel down the ramp, his employer left it at that.

\------

Grayditch was just a stone's throw away from the rusty metal walls of Megaton. Joanna could see the little neighborhood just standing from the top of the hill from outside the city's gates. A thick covering of smoke plumed up from the neighborhood, but as Joanna came to understand the small community was always covered in a heavy smog. Megaton's trash piles were set to burn at the base of the hill, blowing the foul air right into the town much to the chagrin of its few residents. Although the town was nestled closely to its neighboring city, the friction between its citizens created a rift not many were eager to bridge.

There was no need to resupply for the short trek down so Joanna and Charon set a quick pace on the small dirt path. As the two neared Charon held out a hand, causing Joanna to halt.

"What is it Charon?" Joanna asked as her ghoul companion seemed dismayed by something unknown to her.

"Do you smell it?" the ghoul grumbled.

Joanna sniffed the air but only could pick up the rancid scent of garbage. She shrugged not detecting anything unusual.

"That's burnt flesh," Charon said as he took his weapon out to cradle in his arms, "That's a lot of burnt flesh..."

"Maybe they're just burning their sick cattle. I overheard the water here has been contaminated," Joanna said looking towards the smoldering nearby dumping grounds. "I wonder why," she added dryly.

"No, it's human," he stated firmly. "Stay behind me as we approach."

Joanna shrugged, keeping behind her tall escort as they went along. Closer to the town Joanna could feel her lungs burn, there was ash in the air and the smell of burnt rubber was strong. She felt herself choking as the breeze whipped more soot into the sky. Charon handed her a piece of cloth directing her to cover her mouth as he did the same.

As they passed by the first of the homes in Grayditch, Joanna could see large scorch marks streaking up the intact sides of the building. Black char dusted the ground in piles, swirling and scattering with the wind. Once again, Charon halted her as they rounded the side of the home, but this time his reasoning was clear.

Before them on the main road bodies littered the pavement. Black and twisted limbs were bent permanently up towards the sky, cooked through to the bone. The corpses laid like gnarled felled trees down the long stretch of broken asphalt, each one burnt beyond the point of recognition.

Joanna's mouth fell agape. Warm red embers still burned in some areas glowing bright against the bleak grey remains of the town. She walked a bit down the road, trying to see if there were any survivors in this small block of homes, but she saw no signs of life stir in their presence.

"We should head back," Charon said after several minutes of searching through yet another empty home. "This Lesko is not here and the damage only worsens the farther we get into town."

"But we need to find Lesko," Joanna coughed into her face covering as she kicked up a pile of ash in her search through the empty home. "Or maybe a sign of what happened here."

"A fire."

"You know what I mean," she rolled her eyes. "Look at the scorch marks. You think maybe raiders did this?"

Charon shrugged. "Maybe with flamers but it's a waste of fuel. This shithole doesn't have anything worth looting."

"Maybe they did it for fun?" she suggested coughing harder.

"Doesn't matter. Lesko is dead."

"How do you know?"

"If he isn't, he is either responsible for this or his disappearance is exceptionally timely. Bastard's gone regardless," Charon butted Joanna lightly in the back with the end of his shotgun, poking her out the doorway. "Now move on. The air isn't good for those vaultie lungs of yours."

Joanna made little argument as she began hacking on the thickening smoke. The pair walked down one of Grayditch's remaining sidewalks until they approached what looked to be some sort of large metal tube. Bits of orange colored rust dotted the outside wherever some of the old Pre-War paint had peeled off. Joanna could hear a soft voice emanating from the odd container.

_"Pulowski: Nuclear protection on a budget!"_

A recording played the advertisement over crackling speakers as the companions neared. Joanna squinted at the fading lettering only making out the larger words: Pulowski Preservation Shelter.

"Preservation shelter?" she asked aloud.

"Pre-War portable shelters," Charon clarified for her. "Like a small personal vault. Only these don't work worth a damn."

Joanna walked closer to inspect the shelter, rounding it from behind. Charon sighed standing his ground on the sidewalk, unwilling to show his approval over her curiosity by following her.

The front metal door was ajar letting a sliver of light flicker on and off from inside the dark hollow containment unit. Joanna slipped her finger in the small wedge of space between the door, pulling it open a hair more to peek inside. She hadn't even caught a glimpse before she was backing off retching at the foul smell that released at her probing.

Charon was quick to run to her side, pushing her back from the shelter. His arm came up to replace the cloth he had dropped on his way over, grimacing at the odor in the air.

"Fuck," the ghoul coughed, "back away."

Joanna recovered from the initial impact of the smell to look at the shelter door again. This time the doors remained partially open. From her position she could see a small shoe tucked into the crevice of space at the bottom, keeping the doors from sliding back into place.

Charon pressed Joanna to keep moving away but she refused.

"I think someone's in there!" she exclaimed, running back to the door. She held her breath, trying to pry the shelter all the way open.

The ghoul looked annoyed but came up beside her, easily pushing the doors apart. The source of the rancid odor made itself known.

A small boy laid curled up at the bottom of the shelter, breathing shallowly, with eyes tightly closed. Although his skin was freckled and burnt by the sun, his color overall was pale. His clothes were soaked through; soiled with sweat, blood, and human waste. His body shook, as if even the stagnant heat of the shelter was too cold.

Joanna bent down to touch the boy but Charon's hand was quick to snatch her wrist back.

"The boy is sick. Do not touch him," Charon said as what was left of his nose crinkled. "He is infected."

"We have to do something. We can't just leave him to die," Joanna pleaded.

Charon pushed her back forcibly, preventing her from going to the boy's side.

"I said he is infected. He isn't dying. Not yet anyway," Charon kept Joanna back as he scooped the boy up in his arms. "I wasn't suggesting we leave him to die. Just don't touch him."

Joanna watched the boy intently but didn't see him stir in the ghoul's arms. He sure looked like he was dying but through all the grime it was hard to tell. Charon handled his little body with all the grace and dignity he would give an old sack of rotten potatoes, but she was grateful he was at least in agreement to help the poor child.

They left Grayditch behind in the curling smoke as they made their way back up to the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter. I have a bunch of things I want to get to in this so I'll probably be writing a lot when I can. So hopefully there will be lots more soon.  
> The quests that do appear have obvious deviations from the original source, same with the area's layout and details for the structures/world. 
> 
> If anyone was wondering what I had been doing while I was away for so long I'll put a link to the project I've been sort of consumed by:
> 
> http://fav.me/dc8011z  
> (I'm just gonna assume this link works...if not, I'll fix it eventually)
> 
> I know it isn't Fallout related but I'm just looking for an excuse to put a picture of it somewhere. Feels like I've been beating my head against a wall just trying to make it presentable even as a work in progress pic.


	33. Sugar Bombs and Sleepovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon is left alone to babysit the boy.

Charon sat in his room wiping off the kids face with a wet washcloth. The boy was still unconscious. It had been a full day now.

They had taken the child to the town doctor who made the simple diagnosis that he had the water sickness and a touch of rad poisoning, something Charon could already figure out on his own. They set him up on a drip and watched over his condition. He was simply too dehydrated to function after shitting his brains out and fighting for air in Grayditch's ashes.

It took Charon a lot of scrubbing, but he had managed to help Joanna clean the little gutter squatter off in the tub. They had already given him an oversized shirt to wear as they had trashed the rest of his shit stained clothes.

Seeing his little ribs press under his skin with each breath as they had worked to redress him, Joanna voiced her concern. Charon assured her for a wastelander the kid was plenty healthy. She just couldn't wrap her head around the fact that children, especially children in tiny shit towns like Grayditch, weren't typically the baby fat faces she associated with from Pre-War ads. Vault life may have left the few kids down there soft and plump, but up here this was pretty typical for a more destitute farm hand or scavvers bastard. The kid was utterly unremarkable, just like the majority of people in Megaton.

Of course since the kid now needed a place to be, he was moved into Charon's room on the available couch. This led to another sleepless night for Charon, as the kids infectious state made him sickened. As a ghoul, he really didn't like the smell of sick people. There was a certain taste that stuck to his mouth that was all but pleasant. It was like having to sit next to rotting food, effectively making his appetite flee from him. As a human, Joanna was unaware of this fact, not being able to sense the illness that ran through the boy.

This morning Joanna had left the child in his care. She wandered off with a large package, saying she had a few deliveries in town. Charon had checked her stash of chems, seeing they had dwindled significantly. If she was doing a deal she must be pretty confident to not take her body guard along.

Charon shook his head as he continued to attend to the boy. A small groan escaped the kid and soon he was beginning to squirm on the sofa.

The ghoul backed away, unsure if he should leave the room. Waking up in an unfamiliar place was already hard enough without adding a huge ghoul staring at you. Before he could retreat behind cover the boy's eyes began to flitter open.

The kid sat up on the sofa groggily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around the strange room, obviously taken aback as he gasped, pulling himself further into the couch.

Charon cleared his throat, not quite sure what to say to the kid.

The boy let out another startled gasp as he took in the ghoul before him. He started breathing heavily in his panic.

"Calm down kid," Charon held up his hands showing him empty palms. He hoped it looked like a comforting gesture and not like he was going to choke the boy out.

"Wha...what? Where?" the boy's voice sounded strained, "Where am I Mister?"

Charon's brow rose in surprise. He figured the kid would scream or cry when he woke up.

"Megaton. You're safe in the home of my employer. Now sit still. You're too weak to be up," Charon responded handing the kid a glass of water.

The child reached out downing the drink quickly, coughing up some of the liquid before slowing his pace.

"Wow. I haven't tasted anything like that before. What's in it?" he asked inspecting his now empty cup.

"Water," Charon retorted as he took back the glass. Most likely the kid has never had a clean drink in his life. "Now what's your name kid?"

"Bryan Wilks. My papa is-" the boy looked away sadly before correcting himself, "my papa was Fred Wilks. But then those _things_ got him," he sniffled sadly.

"What things?"

"Those Fuckin' Ants," Bryan spat vehemently."Well, that's what my papa called them anyway. I just called them Fire Ants."

Charon didn't know what a Fire Ant was, but he certainly wasn't interested in making it his problem. Bad enough they already took the kid in, he didn't need to deal with a real threat on top of it.

"Hey Mister, you haven't told me your name yet."

"Charon," he grumbled.

"Isn't that a girl's name?"

Charon sighed hoping his employer would return quickly.

\-----

Unfortunately Joanna did not return until much later in the evening, bringing with her an empty bag and several of the long paper tubes that Charon had seen in her file cabinets. More rolls of bottle caps. He guessed her hand off went well.

The boy in the meantime had devoured a majority of the food she had recently purchased from the market. He was, after all, a growing boy, and several days starved on top of that. Charon was in no rush to stop him from raiding the cupboards as it kept the boy quiet if his mouth was already occupied eating, not that it stopped the kid from trying.

Through mouthfuls of food Bryan explained what had happened to Grayditch, how he had been surviving, and the handful of people that had been lost to the Fire Ants.

Charon half listened to what he could as part of the boys chatter was too muffled by his chewing to understand.

Wadsworth hovered by greeting Joanna at the door as usual. She gave the robot her items wordlessly not yet noticing their presence.

Bryan looked up from his fifth bowl of Sugar Bomb's, swallowing hard.

"Is that your employer?" he whispered to Charon at the table.

Charon nodded, watching the kid shrink into his chair. He seemed to be a lot more afraid of her than of him. Weird fucking kid.

Joanna walked over to the kitchen, lighting up as she saw the boy.

"You're up! And," she looked around the disheveled kitchen, "eating well...you must feel better then."

The boy nodded bashfully, slinking further behind his cereal bowl as if he wanted to drown in it.

"I'm Joanna. What's your name?"

"Bryan Wilks," he mumbled quietly.

"Are you alright?" Joanna asked as the boy played with the rim of his bowl.

Bryan nodded but kept his mouth shut, looking uncomfortably between Charon and her.

Joanna looked at Charon, a silent question in her eyes. The ghoul only shrugged not really understanding the boy's sudden hesitancy.

His employer tried to pry some information from the boy but Bryan remained distant and awkward for the rest of the evening. The hour drew late and Joanna apparently gave up for the day, excusing herself and going off to bed, but not before dragging Charon to the side for 'an adults only conversation'.

"Is he really okay?" Joanna asked half whispering to the ghoul.

Charon shrugged, "He was until you showed up."

Joanna scoffed. "What did I do?"

Charon shrugged again, "Maybe the kid just feels sick. He ate like eight bowls of Sugar Bombs."

"Well he- wait. Why would you let him eat eight bowls of Sugar Bombs?"

"I didn't let him. I just didn't stop him."

Joanna breathed in deeply, rubbing her temples between her fingers. "Alright. Well since you two seem like such good friends already, he can stay with you again tonight."

"He's staying here again?"

"Well we can't send him off on his own now can we?"

"He's got family in Rivet City, an aunt."

"Rivet City?" Joanna paused to chew at her lower lip before shaking her head, "We'll talk about it in the morning. For now, watch over him."

Even though Charon and Joanna were up the stairs both could hear the distinct sound of the boy retching in the kitchen, a wet splattering following the sound of his heaving.

"Madam? I believe the young Sir has taken ill." Wadsworth called up at the pair adding with a quiet wail, "Oh-It's everywhere."

"Just get him to bed," Joanna commanded as she walked to her room. "And no more Sugar Bombs."

Charon groaned but his employer already slipped away leaving him to deal with the kid and Wadsworth with the mess.  

\-----

After placing the rest of the Sugar Bomb's far up on a shelf Bryan couldn't reach, Charon hauled the boy back to his room, plopping him down on the old sofa.

"Sleep," Charon commanded as he himself curled up on the floor. The room was dark save for the small amount of moonlight that peaked in through the tiny covered window.

"But I'm not tired," Bryan whined, sitting back up on the sofa staring at Charon on the floor.

"That's not my problem," the ghoul replied trying his best to keep his eyes closed and ignore the brat.

The kid laid down with a humph. There were a few minutes of blissful silence before the kid rolled to his side.

"Charon? Chaaaron?" he whispered into the darkness towards the ghoul.

Charon gave a small groan.

"Charon?" the kid asked again, a little louder this time.

"What?"

"Are you asleep?" his voice fell back to a whisper.

"Let me check," he groaned as he rolled onto his back, stretching uncomfortably over his nest of blankets until something popped, "No."

"Me either," Bryan sighed beginning to tap his foot against the arm of the couch. Charon flinched with every little thump, growing more and more agitated.

"Hey Charon?"

"What?" the ghoul answered shortly, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

"Is Miss Joanna nice?"

Charon cracked his eyes open to look at the boy. He had the sheets drawn up to his face, staring at the ceiling waiting for the ghouls response.

"I suppose," Charon shrugged not really wanting to discuss his employer to the boy. In fact, he didn't really want to think about Joanna at all right now. Not while the room was dark and the ghoul could picture her sleeping soundly just down the hall...

"My dad was nice, real nice, but I didn't have a mom. My dad said it was because he was too nice a guy," Bryan squinted hard at the ceiling. "Can you really be _too_ nice a guy?"

Charon shrugged indifferently but Bryan didn't seem to mind as he continued on.

"There weren't any girls in Grayditch. Unless you count Will's mom. Except she was old...and mean," Bryan said wrinkling his nose. "Miss Joanna doesn't look old...or mean."

Charon listened to the boy but didn't talk back. The kid seemed to be struggling with something as he played with the edge of his blankets.

"Charon? Do girls make you nervous?"

Charon sat up, not liking where this conversation was headed. Charon shook his head, not really caring if the boy could see him in the dim light or not. Girls didn't make him nervous, but this kid sure was.

"Girls make me nervous," Bryan admitted sheepishly into his covers. "Miss Joanna makes me nervous. Does she make you nervous Charon?"

"She is my employer," Charon stated, not quite sure himself what sort of response that was meant to be.

"Miss Joanna is pretty for a girl, isn't she? How come she's with you? Since you know...you're so ugly," Bryan asked, quietly adding, "no offense."

"Because she is my employer," he stated, more than a little annoyed about the unnecessary observation.

"Are you nice to her?" the boy asked craning his neck towards the ghoul curiously.

"Not particularly."

"Are you mean to her?"

Charon shrugged. "Maybe a little," he admitted.

"Huh..." Bryan thought over something for a moment. "I guess pretty girls really don't like nice guys."

"I didn't say that."

"So they do like nice guys?"

"I didn't say that either," Charon huffed, "Just be a nice kid and stop fucking worrying about it."

"But not _too_ nice right?"

"Holy shit," Charon muttered under his breath. "Just be normal and go to sleep."

"Okay."

A few more minutes of silence graced Charon's ears before Bryan stirred once more.

"Charon?"

"For the love of-  WHAT?"

"I'm thirsty."

Groaning, the ghoul clapped a hand over his face. This kid was going to make him turn feral for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking forward to writing the next few chapters XD I like picturing the interactions between Charon and Bryan.


End file.
